Valentines
by angelofnight
Summary: Hannibal and Clarice at last... a happy ending. Please don't ask for a sequal, I ran out of fuel with this story! But I'll write others - not necessarily SOTL though!
1. The Stalker

AN – I'm just a beginner with Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs fan fiction, so I'm going to post a couple of very short chapters to see what you think of how I'm doing. I only began a couple of days ago, so please bare with me As I grow more accustomed to the characters personalities, I hope it will get better. ( Thank you!  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
1 Chapter One: The Stalker  
  
He'd followed her to the mall; as he'd done at least a dozen times in the past. His eyes followed her sturdy frame as it moved from her dark plumb colored GTO, to the malls food court entrance. Her brown hair fell to elegantly frame the thin face that held a pair of blazing sapphire eyes. She wore a black sweatshirt with pleated jeans, and white sneakers.  
  
"Only you could make such outfits look like fashion." The man following her mumbled. Slipping on a pair of dark-tinted glasses, the man stepped out of a gray-blue Ford Taurus from the mid to late eighties. It was an old clunker, but he'd managed to keep it in reasonable shape since acquiring it. Not bothering to lock the door, he arranged a tan cap on his head, and straightened the gray sweats he wore.  
  
"Come out come out, Clarice." He smiled, strolling calmly into the mall. No one took even a second glance in his direction, he was dressed so inconspicuously. Moving past a small fashion boutique with little cheap baubles, asset of earrings caught his eye. He only took a fleeting glance at them, storing the image into his memory before continuing onward.  
  
They were on the second story of the building, and it required a long route past a chocolate shop, a clothing store, and a Music Box Shoppe in order to reach the food court. He watched her take the extended detour from by the boutique, until she stepped into a long waiting line for her lunch. 


	2. The Luncheon/Reunion

How was that for you guys? Well here's the next part… I told you I only have a few pages down so far, and I'm trying to break it up into something like chapters.  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
1 Chapter Two: Luncheon/The Reunion  
  
Clarice did not see the man that followed her. She moved to a food both that served Chinese meals. The line was excruciatingly long, but the food was her favorite; and she needed the energy for that day of tedious clothes shopping. The longer the line, the longer she could stall the inevitable of lowering herself to fashion sense. Looking about in boredom, her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar retreating figure. Yet a mere blink of her eyes caused him to vanish.  
  
Starling, you're seeing things again. She scolded herself. Turning, she paid more attention to the menu in front of her. After getting lunch, and a bottle of water, her steps turned to a small clustering of empty tables. She was having an early lunch, so the food court was reasonably unpopulated at the moment. Sitting away from others was no problem. Lowering herself into the hard chair, her back to the rest of the room, she pulled a government bulletin from her purse. Cordellia had begun forwarding to her through e-mail a year before.  
  
She didn't see the man in sweats sit just behind her, so that they were back to back. He had a paper bag on the table, beside a tall paper cup filled with Dr. Pepper, from the Burger Boy booth across the hall. He simply sat there for a long time, sipping his soda, and taking glances over his shoulder with a light to his eyes that was hidden behind the dark- tinted shades.  
  
"It's a fine day out there, isn't it?"  
  
The metallic sound of his voice caught Clarice Starling by surprise. Her bulletin fell to the floor, and the open bottle of water nearly spilled as she lurched forward in shock. The man behind her turned, settling one arm on the back of his chair casually.  
  
"Tell me, Clarice." He continued. "What do you think of the autumns here in New England?"  
  
"Dr. Lecter…" Clarice's voice was soft, just barely audible over the buzz of the weekend morning crowd. "Can't you leave me alone, Hannibal?"  
  
"Come, Clarice. Don't be rude. Aren't you happy to know I didn't bleed to death?" For the first time, he pulled his left arm from his sweatshirt pocket. It had no hand, but only a bandaged stump. "I brought you a gift, Clarice."  
  
She looked around nervously. There was a gun in her handbag. But there were too many people around to try and pull a gun on Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Also, she didn't want to pull the gun on him. She curiously didn't feel like she was in any real danger. Besides… she was honestly curious about his gift to her. Since the Fourth of July that he'd cut his own hand off to escape arrest, she'd been curious about his actions. He could have lopped off her hand, but had spared it for his own. Also, when he'd kissed her, she'd felt something she hadn't been able to understand, no matter how many hours she thought over it.  
  
"All right… sit with me."  
  
Hannibal Lecter pushed back his chair, and stood. In picking up the paper bag and soda, he respectfully stepped over the bulletin she'd dropped moments before.  
  
Clarice took the bag, and took out a white box. Wrapped in white gauze was a pair of silver colored earrings with cut glass that matched the blue of her eyes. It was the first piece of jewelry a man had ever given to her. As the doctor sat calmly beside her, rather than across from her, she distantly heard him explaining that had he known he'd be in the mall that day, he would've brought money, and gotten her something finer.  
  
"Thank you…" Her voice was very quiet, almost apathetic.  
  
"Don't get too excited now, Clarice." His voice was teasing her gently. "You might make a scene in front of all these people. Will you put them on for me?"  
  
Lifting her eyes, Clarice Starling took note of how often he spoke her name. Did he do it because he liked hearing her name? For reasons she didn't know, the sound of him saying it gave her pleasant chills.  
  
"Why?" She asked quietly. "Why all of this? The kiss, my hand, these earrings… " Her voice nearly broke. "Why, Hannibal?"  
  
His eyebrows rose at the usage of his first name. Usually she was much cooler to him, always using his title. Then again, at one time, he had told her to. That was before he'd gotten better acquainted with her.  
  
"Let me ask you about the kiss, Clarice." He entreated. "If you hadn't been able to handcuff me… would you have returned that kiss?"  
  
The former special agent of the F.B.I. looked away, unable to think of an answer that he would accept without pressing her.  
  
"We've both disgraced ourselves, little Starling." He stated. "Look at me."  
  
When she did, his sunglasses had been taken off. His maroon eyes met her blue ones squarely, barely an inch away. It took Clarice by surprise, and she would have backed away. Yet his only hand came up to clasp her shoulder, holding her in place.  
  
"Trust me, Clarice… and I will trust you. Come with me, now. Somewhere more private. No phones to call the authorities… no weapons for either of us to hurt one another…"  
  
"Trust for trust?" She breathed. Hannibal Lecter smiled, somehow knowing what was about to happen.  
  
"Answers for answers." He replied.  
  
"Quid pro quo…doctor…" Clarice stood, opening her purse so that he could see she had a gun in it. Then, closing it again hastily, her eyes looked about before they again met his. She put the earrings he'd given her into the pocket of her jeans as a second thought. "All right… where are we going?"  
  
"Why don't we start with my car? Or yours… if you'd prefer…"  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
I'd tried not to make it move too fast… so I hope Clarice seems to be remaining outwardly aloof and professional. Any suggestions for the future? Any suggestions for changes? Please don't judge me on looks and tastes in clothing. I like to change the characters so they're partly mine just a little. And I beg of you, please don't completely flame me! ( 


	3. Not Knowing Yourself

Chapter Three: Not knowing yourself  
  
While pulling her GTO onto the highway, Clarice looked to Hannibal from the corner of her eye. He hadn't changed in four years. Maybe gotten a little leaner, and stronger. Seeing him healthy was somehow pleasing. It set her at ease.  
  
"Where are we going, Clarice?" His voice was calm and even every time he spoke. Again wearing the sunglasses, Hannibal didn't even look towards her.  
  
"I thought that the Mystic Aquarium would be all right." She replied. "Hannibal… please tell me why you're here."  
  
"We started something on the Fourth of July." He began. "I thought we might continue under less strenuous circumstances."  
  
"What would that be?"  
  
"Pull over, Clarice." Hannibal's voice was suddenly sharp. "Pull over now."  
  
Heartbeat picking up in fear, Clarice moved to the side of the highway. She kept her blinker on before taking her hands from the wheel. She was just beginning to turn when Hannibal unbuckled his seat belt, then reached over to unsnap hers too.  
  
Shit! She thought instinctively. He made me put my gun in the trunk!  
  
"Clarice…" Ripping off his sunglasses, Hannibal took her shoulders. "Look at me."  
  
When she did, his hand lifted to stroke her cheek, and trace her jaw line. It seemed to somehow make her calmer. He admired the earrings she'd put on for him before pulling out of the mall parking lot.  
  
"Trust me, Clarice."  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-  
  
N/A … guys… to be truthful, I have no idea what to do with this story next. I think we all know what I would like Hannibal to do at this point – but that's only the immediate future. I feel very uncomfortable when I try to grasp the characters personalities, and I need some help. Please give me some advice on what you'd like to see happen next. What you definitely don't want to see too. 


	4. Sinful THoughts??

Chapter Four: Sinful thoughts??  
  
"Trust me."  
  
Clarice stared at those maroon eyes. She didn't know if she could do that. She didn't know if she could trust him. The prospect of trusting Hannibal was more unnerving than thinking he was there to kill her.  
  
"Dr. Lecter…"  
  
"That isn't trust, Clarice." He replied quickly. "Take the next exit. There's a motel next to the Roy Rogers. We're going to take a room, sit, and have a talk."  
  
Nodding, she used the opportunity to pull away from those eyes. Concentrating on refastening her seatbelt, something odd brushed her forehead. Lifting up sharply, she came to see his face pulling away. Hannibal Lecter had kissed her again.  
  
Really shaking, Clarice pulled back onto the highway, and took the next exit as she'd been told to do. The short ride to the cheap motel was silent. She was nervous. So nervous that she had to tell Hannibal to go in and check out a room for them. She didn't care to think about whether or not he would be recognized as a criminal…  
  
Climbing out of the car, Hannibal felt a palpable relief. It had taken a great deal of will power not to touch her again. He'd clutched his hands tightly to his knees in order to keep his itching fingers away from her hair.  
  
He signed them in under then name Jamie Bill. With a smirk, he nodded to the man behind the desk. He liked using the two names of James Gumm and Buffalo Bill together. It seemed somehow appropriate to him. Taking the key to their room, he met Clarice outside as she locked her car. Her gun was still in the trunk, he knew. He had been able to see her through the window the entire time.  
  
"Shall we?" His voice was pleasant as he walked to their room at her side, trying not to put an arm about her waist. Yet when he unlocked the door, and let her in first, he did touch the small of her back just lightly. He could feel her stiffen under his touch, and that made him frown sadly, and pull back. Locking the door as he closed it behind them, he let his eyes adjust to the dim light of the room. It was simple. It had two full sized beds, a dresser in between with a lamp and telephone, and a dresser across from it.  
  
Clarice looked around before sitting uncertainly on the corner of the bed furthest away from the door. She was thinking so many things at once, she couldn't hear herself. Yet soon, Hannibal flicked the light switch, casting a soft yellow glow across the room from the lamp by the head of each bed. She jumped slightly, then let her purse fall from her hand and onto the floor.  
  
"You haven't been sleeping, Clarice." He said quietly. "Bad dreams? Troubled thoughts of the F.B.I. that betrayed you? Please tell me. I'd help you sleep if I could."  
  
"It's none of that." She whispered, thinking that of course he'd been spying on her even at night. It would be the time to learn her house's layout. Why wouldn't he try to learn that, like he had last time he'd interrupted her privacy, and her life. "Truth be told… it's because of you. Thinking about you, I mean."  
  
"Really?" Raising his eyebrows, he moved closer to her. "What type of thoughts go through your mind when you think of me?"  
  
Clarice might have blushed, if the thoughts that came to mind had been what he secretly hoped to hear about.  
  
"Things you've told me before. On the phone… the day Mason Verger got a hold of you." Her voice went quiet. "I've tried to think that you might've been right. But a mirror has never helped me see what you seemed to."  
  
Hannibal seemed to go through his memory for the conversation they'd had… when he'd brushed his fingers against her hair and she hadn't known it. Then, he smiled ever-so-faintly.  
  
"All you would need for that, is a mirror." He whispers in reminiscence. Slowly, he reached out to turn on the two lamps that were attached to the wall on either side of a mirror above the dresser. Then, he held a hand out to her. "Clarice… come here."  
  
She stood woodenly, her muscles tensing the closer she got to him. Yet finally, he touched the small of her back only to push her against the dresser so she saw her own reflection. Hannibal stepped up behind her, and reached up to pull her hair out of her face. Then, his hands moved down her neck until they could gently grip her shoulders. Clarice found herself relaxing at such a calming touch.  
  
"Look at yourself, Clarice." He urged in a soft monotone. "They were all fools, my little Starling. Every last one of them. Especially that Krendler. What a naughty boy. Wouldn't you agree? Calling you those cruel things. But I took care of him, didn't I? In doing so, didn't I care for you? I've always tried to take care of you."  
  
"You killed a man.."  
  
"He didn't die, Clarice. Not by my hand. You remember that you interrupted me in the kitchen. That was why he died. I would've been happy to leave him alive, destined to be left in an asylum." He smirked. "But look at yourself, Clarice. You're worth much more than you give yourself credit for. You still have that incorruptibility. You see, Clarice? You don't have to be corrupted in order to give yourself something better. You're only human. You can't be perfect. No one can."  
  
She stared at her own reflection, lulled by the sound of his voice, and she didn't even realize when she began leaning against him for support. His fingertips continued to brush her shoulders in a soothing caress. He continued talking for a very long time… a very, very long time. When he suddenly let her go, Clarice almost fell, yet he caught her up in his arms easily, and she didn't try to fight him. He was still talking in a low voice, but she couldn't follow his words anymore. She had her own thoughts drowning out his voice.  
  
"Clarice? Clarice, are you all right?" His voice rose after some time, and he was looking at her in concern. She blinked, and looked around. He had sat on the edge of the bed with her in his lap, resting back against one arm, while the other held her in place so she didn't slip off his knee. "Clarice?"  
  
"Hannibal…" She breathed, looking back up at him. When their eyes met, she saw the reflection of her pale face in his maroon depths. The mirror was being held up in front of her now… more so than when he'd stood behind her minutes ago. He was her mirror. Reaching up, her fingertips hesitantly touched his face, tracing the lines of age that had formed themselves there and made him somehow more dignified. 


	5. fly fly fly... fly fly fly...

Chapter Five: Fly, fly, fly… fly, fly, fly…  
  
A/N : Thanks for all your reviews you guys. As I said before, I'm not sure where this is going to go from here. I know the direction I'd like to go in – sort of. Maybe the next two chapters. But when I try and write it down, it comes out strange and I tend to be a slight perfectionist. Keep the reviews coming – advice would be nice too (  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/  
  
"Hannibal…"  
  
He stared down at her for a long time, nearly flinching from shock when she reached up to caress his face. He didn't know what had happened to her. It seemed to him she had swooned, yet it wasn't particularly hot in the room, and she had been breathing quite calmly when he spoke to her. Clarice's limbs had simply given out one her when he stepped away and stopped supporting her relaxed frame. Yet when he had her on his lap as he sat on the corner of the motel room bed, he couldn't help but feel more than just worry for her. He'd never had her so close before.  
  
"Clarice, are you all right?" he asked again mechanically. His hand moved up to take hers, and pull it slightly away from his face. Then, turning it in his grip, he lightly kissed her palm, daring to do that as long as she wasn't fighting him. She had let her guard down far more than he thought she would when he spoke to her for such a long time, in such a droning voice. He had sort of hypnotized her during his long speech, just putting her in a calm state of mind.  
  
"Yes…" she breathed, still staring up at him, her hand totally relaxed as he kissed her. She didn't even pull away. She was staring at him as though partly in a trance, yet he knew she was thinking quite clearly. Her eyes were focused. "I'm all right…"  
  
Hannibal moved to help her sit up beside him, yet her hand pulled out of his, and took his shoulder quickly in silent objection. Startled, he looked down at her again. She didn't wish for him to let her go… and he was inwardly relieved. He hadn't wanted to let her go so soon. He never wanted to let go of her again.  
  
"I'm sorry." Clarice whispered abruptly. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"For what?" he said in a low, calm voice.  
  
"For not asking you to stop." It seemed the only way she could explain all the things she was sorry for, but Hannibal understood – probably more than she did herself. She was apologizing for not seeing that he really did love her that night on the Fourth of July. She was apologizing for not seeing that she loved him in return. She hadn't wanted to see any of it. Even though she knew she could've stopped him from ever killing again… from ever doing any harm to anyone again… she had wanted to be strong against him. She'd always tried to be strong against everybody.  
  
"I have stopped." He told her softly. "I stopped the moment I … the moment I kissed you. I couldn't make your conscience hurt. I knew that if I went on as I normally would have… you would have blamed yourself for letting me escape. I would never wish torment on you, Clarice. I do love you… and I stopped… although you didn't ask me to."  
  
Clarice sat up a little bit, and he shifted her so they'd both be more comfortable in such a position. She was light on his lap, yet in a while his leg would start feeling pins and needles. He was healthy, but being an older man than he once was… his circulation was poorer than that of a robust gentleman in his prime.  
  
"You … love me…" she breathed, as though unable to believe it, and then smiled faintly. "Hannibal…"  
  
He immediately thought he understood the tone of her voice when she whispered his name again. Leaning down, Dr. Hannibal Lecter brought his lips to those of Clarice Starling, and was amazed and overjoyed when she returned it. He'd mistaken her tone of voice for the voice of passion. And although it was not exactly passion she'd felt, she wasn't going to pull away from him now that she had him. Now that they had one another.  
  
"Clarice… come away with me…" he entreated when he pulled slowly, reluctantly, away from her sweet taste. "There's nothing for you here. You and I can have the world."  
  
"I don't want the world."  
  
"You don't have to have the world." He promised. "I'll take the world… and you just stay with me."  
  
They both chuckled at that, as it had been almost totally unexpected. Then, Clarice wrapped her arms tightly around Hannibal, and they simply held onto one another for a very, very long time. 


	6. Claiming the World

Chapter Six: Claiming the world…  
  
A/N – The title to the chapter might be better called Claiming the world part one – as so far as I know (I will probably extend the chapter as I type it… they don't even leave Connecticut in this chapter… but they certainly talk about the world. Anyhow thank you for your reviews… and please give me advice to go along with them!!!!  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
  
  
It was late evening. The King Buffet Chinese restaurant was full for a Saturday night, and two figures sat across from each other at a dimly lit corner booth. The man sat directly in the corner, and the woman had her back to the room. Their hands were linked on the center of the table, while they used their free hands to eat. Both were in semi-formal clothing.  
  
"There are better places to eat Chinese food." Hannibal murmured softly over a plate of duck and a crab dish. "Like China."  
  
Clarice looked up at him calmly. Her back to the restaurant, so he would continuously glance over the patrons of the room made her feel somehow very alone with him. A feeling she was truly beginning to like. It was hard to break the habits of a fugitive, she noticed, as he was constantly speaking over her shoulder rather than at her face.  
  
"Is that where you want to go?" she asked him.  
  
"Only temporarily." He admitted. "Maybe after that we might go to France… England… Spain… Russia… Switzerland… Romania…" The smile he gave her grew with each country he named, and finally he chuckled at the look on her face. "Well… one of the places at least." He amended.  
  
"Romania would suit the likes of you." She teased gently. "If we're going to have the world, why don't we see all of those places?"  
  
Hannibal couldn't help the smile that reached his eyes as he squeezed her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles tenderly.  
  
"I'll take you anywhere you wish to go." He promised. "Clarice… the only sight I need anymore is your face near mine when I wake up in the morning."  
  
Blushing, Clarice set her eyes onto her plate. It was empty, and had been for twenty minutes. Even Hannibal's plate ought to have been considered empty. He hadn't done more than push his food around for forty minutes when he became too full to eat anymore. Neither of them wanted their dinner together to end, forcing them apart for a night, while they prepared to leave the U.S.  
  
"Hannibal… stay at my place tonight." She whispered abruptly. "You could buy the tickets for our flight over my computer… forget about your car at the mall. Leave it there."  
  
"It's bad enough I have to clean my little place of any … evidence… that I've been there." He said regretfully. "I wouldn't want them to search your place once you disappear and find my finger prints all over it. We don't want them to know that we're together, do we? It would be easier for them to find us."  
  
With a frown, Clarice took a sip from the tea in front of her.  
  
"Then let me stay with you." She sighed. "They wouldn't think for one moment to look for my fingerprints there, would they? Hannibal… I don't want to give my mind the time it needs to talk me out of everything I've decided today. Leaving you might mean I'll change my mind."  
  
"You won't change your mind." Hannibal said calmly. "It's your heart that's made these decisions. Your mind cannot change your heart."  
  
A waiter passed by and placed their check on the table with two fortune cookies. Hannibal took one up, and then handed the second cookie to Clarice. They broke them, read their private fortunes, and then, silently, stood with regret. After paying for their dinner, Hannibal walked out of the restaurant with Clarice on his arm.  
  
"Clarice… I'm very sorry." He whispered as they parted ways back at the mall. Her GTO was pulled up alongside the Taurus that he'd used to follow her for well over a year. Leaning down to her window, he lightly kissed her. "I'll be there before dawn, as long as I'm not held up. I promise."  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-  
  
N/A: What do you think? Should I have them separated? Should I make things go smoothly? For God's sake I highly doubt that the FBI would just send Clarice off on her own without keeping up on her social life. They suspected her enough in the movie "Hannibal", didn't they?? 


	7. Unexpected Visitors

Chapter Seven: More trouble in Paradise (Temporary title)  
  
Pulling into the driveway of her Mansfield apartment, Clarice sighed heavily. Already, she missed Hannibal more than she'd ever missed him before. Now she could admit that she'd missed him when they were still uneasy enemies. The FBI agent against the psychopathic criminal. Now, it was something altogether different. She was no longer an agent of the FBI. She didn't even work for the law at all anymore. She kept dibs on what was happening in her old line of work through Ardelia, but that was all. Her career had taken a new turn, and she'd been studying at Connecticut's Uconn University to become an English teacher… and maybe she'd be qualified to teach law to high school students. She still believed in the law. Then again, so did Hannibal Lecter – and he was a deliberate criminal.  
  
With a frown, she struggled to unlock the front door to her apartment, and then forcefully pushed the door inward. She hated her apartment. She'd had a tidy little fortune to live off of when the FBI had fired her… but the living prices for living in Mansfield were steep. The best she could really afford was a lousy cramped apartment, if she wanted to keep her computer hooked up to the Internet, and still be able to afford to go to school. Making her way into the small TV room, she tossed her coat and purse onto the couch, put her keys on the table beside it, and then settled down in front of the computer to check her e-mail.  
  
Shouldn't you be packing your clothes, and collecting your favorite things to bring with you tomorrow? A part of her mind asked. Silencing it, she smirked to herself. You've got all night, and can sleep in the car. He said we'd be going halfway across the country before taking a plane anywhere.  
  
There was an e-mail from Ardeliea, but the rest of it was junk mail. Upon seeing the email FcrimeBustingIntensity_ardelia@hotmail.com, she smirked softly. Leave it to her best friend to rub her career in her face. Yet she didn't really care. She felt a bit of sadness, knowing she could probably never contact her friend again, since she was about to become a wanted woman for being Hannibal's companion. Still… she knew that there would be places she could use her e-mail without being found. Resting her chin on her hand, she clicked her mouse onto the address.  
  
CLARICE – WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?? I'VE BEEN CALLING YOU ALL EVENING. DID YOU FORGET I PLANNED TO MEET YOU TONIGHT??  
  
  
  
Shit. She had forgotten, as simple as that. Yet it hadn't been the first time. She hoped that her absent-mindedness wouldn't clue Ardelia in that something was changed. She wanted to be able to get away with Hannibal before anyone began looking for them.  
  
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^  
  
Hannibal hadn't gone to the little hotel on the Uconn Campus where he'd been staying. There wasn't a need to. He'd called on his way there to tell the manager he would be checking out, and that he wanted all of his things packed and ready at the door for him. The manager had been eager to please when he was promised a fine sum of money should everything be in his cases like it should be, and that he wouldn't be stalled when he got there.  
  
Clarice is mine. He could scarcely believe his own good fortune… his own joy… as he thought that. The bellboy to the hotel was placing his things in the trunk of his Taurus, and he gave the money over to him with the assurance it'd be split between him and the manager. Then, he drove off campus and toward the highway, stopping only to take more money out of a bank account he'd opened under an assumed name, and fill the car with gas. He didn't want to take Clarice's GTO, although it would run better, because it would be spotted a lot easier if someone started looking for her.  
  
He was able to see Clarice's apartment from the gas station as he filled up the car. A light was on in her TV room, a room he'd stood and looked at a great deal in the middle of the night, knowing that she'd likely fallen asleep studying, or watching TV. Now, he had the ability to go and knock on the door, and have her answer him with a smile, just as he'd always dreamed of her doing.  
  
A black car pulling into the landfill of a parking lot and park across from Clarice's apartment door. Following it was a gray van that parked a few spaces over. The back doors were opened, and he clearly saw agents from some police force in unmarked coats move over to the car. He knew immediately what was going on… at least he thought he did.  
  
Somehow they've found out I'm around and that I've seen her. But where?  
  
Maybe it was at the mall, or the Chinese restaurant. He wondered to himself if it might have been in the mall when he'd been following her. Perhaps they had been tracking her from time to time to see to her safety. They could've been there to protect her… or to arrest her for walking off with him. Maybe someone had even seen them leaving the Chinese restaurant together, arm in arm.  
  
Clarice… Get out… get out… He thought with alarm. Moving to the front of the gas station, he made sure his back was to the driveway leading into the apartment complex. Picking a quarter out of his jacket pocket, he popped it into a payphone, and dialed Clarice's phone number.  
  
"Starling." Her crisp yet brightly spoken tone answered after the first ring.  
  
"Get out." He whispered, his voice oddly rough, his throat dry from worry.  
  
"Is that you H---"  
  
"Get out!" He repeated more forcefully. "Take the back door and get out now! Run to the video store down the road! Through the woods!"  
  
After slamming the phone down, he made his way back to the corner of the building, and peeked around it to see the agents by the van hadn't even been paying attention to the call. Perhaps they hadn't tapped the phones… or perhaps they hadn't expected anything to happen yet, so hadn't listened in on the call. There was a chance Clarice would make it out all right.  
  
Climbing back into his car, he started his car, almost forgetting to pay for the gas. It seemed like such a trivial thing. Yet he didn't need the cops after him when they were right there. Running into the gas station, he tossed a fifty carelessly onto the counter, ran back out to his car, and peeled out of the driveway. He rode less than a quarter of a mile to a nearby video store, and parked to the side of it, where he wouldn't be seen from the road. Once there, he prowled the area, trying to see Clarice come out of the foliage. 


	8. In the Dead of the Night

Chapter Eight - In the Dead of Night (temporary title. Suggestions?)  
  
N/A Thank you for your wonderful reviews peoples! I have to warn you that now I'm just typing it down once for the most part. Usually I write it down a couple of times then revise it as I type, but not this time. Let's see how it comes out without looking at what I started last night in my notebook!!  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-  
  
Half an hour. Hannibal paced by his Taurus with his hands jabbed into his pocket. Part of him thought about the harpy – his weapon of choice – settled into the back of the drivers seat where it was hidden under a few maps and old magazines that he'd never read. If Clarice hadn't gotten away… if anyone hurt her… he'd use it again. He didn't care what he'd said to her about having already stopped killing since he saw her at Chesapeake. He wouldn't hesitate to kill every one of them if they hurt her in any fashion.  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
Turning, he saw her coming out of a thicket of ugly thorn bushes, struggling to keep her cotton Pajamas from getting torn on the branches. Her face and hands were scraped, and the slippers she wore were torn clean through. They were great big fuzzy slippers with owl faces on them, like the slippers that were usually made for children. Until half an hour ago, he supposed they had probably been very cute and decently warm slippers. Now, as torn as they were, her feet were probably bleeding and cold. She was flustered as she tried to seek him out in the dark, and he moved swiftly over to her, pulling her tightly against him as she saw the relief he felt reflected in her eyes.  
  
"Hannibal, what's wrong?" she asked in a soft voice. "What's happened? Why couldn't you come to my apartment?"  
  
"The place was being watched." He said matter-of-factly. "I can't be sure they were there to stake out your particular apartment, but I will not take any chances. I saw a black car and a van pull in. I could see the observation equipment in the back of the van."  
  
"But… they couldn't have known about me seeing you." Clarice said insistently. "Hannibal… let me go back and get my suitcase and purse at least… if they're watching me, they're probably monitoring calls, and won't see me in there."  
  
"I know." He replied quietly, looking back towards the woods. "I called as fast as I could so that they wouldn't have time to activate the observation equipment. When I left, they were clueless to the fact that I'd even called."  
  
"Hannibal… you do realize I need my clothes and money, don't you?"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"Then let me go back to my apartment. I know how to be discreet. They won't know I'm there."  
  
Hannibal let out a shuddering sigh.  
  
"I'll go." He replied softly. "Did you leave the door unlocked?"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
'Then stay in the car and wait for me. There are some rags in the trunk if you need to clean up your feet. They look terribly abused. While I'm there I'll get some Iodine for your cuts…" He was trying to think of everything at once. Taking care of her and her needs while still keeping them out of reach of police. The real police, anyway. As far as he was concerned, Clarice was still an agent of the law at heart. Even if she no longer chose to try and capture him.  
  
"Please be careful…" As he maneuvered her into the passenger seat, and then reached into the back to pull out his harpy, she watched him carefully. She watched him tuck away the weapon, feeling anxious that he would take it.  
  
"I will. You know that." Moving back to stand in front of her, he lightly traced one of the white scars the branches had left on her face. Then, leaning down, he once again kissed her mouth. The kiss ran away with them for a moment, as their anxieties hand created a kind of passion, and when they parted, they could still taste each other.  
  
"If it's too dangerous, then come back." She whispered. "But otherwise…"  
  
"I'll be fine, Clarice. It's you I'm worried about." 


	9. Settling Matters

Chapter Nine: Settling Matters  
  
Hannibal picked his way through the woods, not exactly taking his time, but taking care not to make a great deal of noise, or stumble through a covered rabbit or more hole and break his ankle. If he did that, where would Clarice be then? She wouldn't be able to sit there waiting forever, and he knew she would likely come looking for him… but might get more injured herself in the process. It was a particularly dark night, and he damned the clouds that spoke of oncoming thundershowers within the next several hours. If he could just get to Clarice's home, into the door, find her things, and then leave without being noticed, then it would be a blessing. He wasn't looking forward to running into more trouble than they were already in.  
  
It took fifteen minutes for him to reach the back of the apartment complex. He could see that Clarice had left the back door not only unlocked, but open. A faint light sent a sliver of yellow onto the ground in his direction as it filtered into the kitchen from the TV room. Making his way up to the stairs, he paused, held his breath, and looked around. There was no sound coming from inside the apartment. Clarice hadn't been watching her TV that night, and so there was nothing to hear from the other room. No one had entered the house. No one was even near the house.  
  
Letting out his breath, Hannibal tried to open the storm door as quietly as he could. Yet it was very old, and quite rusty. It only opened half a foot before it jammed, but it was enough for him to step into the kitchen. He saw that Clarice had left her suitcase at the foot of the stairs by the front door. He could see it down the hallway from where he stood. Walking stealthily into the other room, he moved over to where the lamp was on in the TV room, and took a fast glance at the sofa before turning out the light. He didn't want his silhouette to be seen from outside. Finally, reaching for her coat, purse, and keys, he carried them to the hallway, picked up her suitcase, and went back to the kitchen. There, he only stopped to grab a three liter bottle of Sprite from the refrigerator so that he could give her something to drink.  
  
Just as he closed the door to the refrigerator, a pounding knock came from the front door. He pulled himself into an inlet between the stove and the fridge, planting the suitcase on the floor in front of him.  
  
"Clarice Starling!?" came a deep voice. "Clarice? Open the door!"  
  
'Why does that voice sound painfully familiar?' Hannibal wondered to himself. There was no reason for him to recognize the voice, but he did. Perhaps it was a member of Clarice's once beloved FBI. Someone whom had known her, and whom she'd known.  
  
"Clarice Starling!?"  
  
Hannibal let out a low hiss through his breath, and picked up the suitcase again. There were other shouts coming from outside. He realized it a moment after the voices from outside that apartment door stopped. There were other names being called out. Other doors being pounded on. They weren't there just for Clarice… they were there for the whole tiny community. With a sigh, he slunk his way back to the door, moved through it without closing it, and then bolted the best he could back into the woods.  
  
He made it back to his car, and Clarice, in record time. Ten minutes, and she was looking up at him as he put her suitcase into the trunk, and handed her both her coat and her purse. The keys he'd picked up without thinking about it, he placed in the glove compartment. Now what on earth would she need those for, if she didn't have a car and apartment to use?  
  
"Sorry about that." He murmured. "I ran into a bit of trouble… but it wasn't anything I couldn't have handled."  
  
He saw her face drain of color, and then chuckled.  
  
"The good Dr. got spooked." He confessed to ease her thoughts. Reaching over her shoulder to the cup holder between the two front seats, he pulled out a Duncan Donuts Styrofoam coffee cup, and popped open the bottle of Sprite to pour some of it out. "My dear Clarice, I don't believe they were after you after all. Sounded to me like they were trying to evacuate the entire vicinity. I don't know why, though. Couldn't hear from the kitchen."  
  
"Strange…" she murmured distantly. "But you're all right? There wasn't any… trouble?"  
  
"No, no." He promised. "No trouble at all. Here… have some of this… and please, Clarice. Put your coat on. I'll get your suitcase back out and find you a pair of decent footwear."  
  
He was moving now to keep himself busy. He was talking nonsense, and when he was rummaging through her suitcase, he realized why. For the first time, Hannibal Lecter; Hannibal the Cannibal, was truly anxious and nervous. Truly afraid. Yet it wasn't for his sake. He'd been worried the entire time about Clarice. If he had been caught in her apartment, he knew they would have nailed her for conspiring with a fugitive, or some such nonsense. He'd had several close calls with her tonight, and he didn't like to think about them.  
  
Returning to the car, he moved into the drivers seat so he wouldn't have to crouch down by the passenger door once again. Handing Clarice a pair of black socks, he watched as she took off her slippers, tossed them into the back seat, and rubbed her scraped feet to sooth them. Finally, after taking a sip of the Sprite, she slipped her socks on, shrugged her way into her coat, closed the car door, and buckled her seat belt.  
  
"Let's go." She sighed. "No better time than the present to get as far away here as we possibly can."  
  
He smirked, and started the car. He liked this very, very much. Seeing his Clarice on his side of the law, and seeming to enjoy it as much as he did. 


	10. Sleepy TIme

Chapter 10:: Sleepy Time/Discourtesy is Unspeakably Ugly to Me  
  
When the car pulled into a Mobile station by Ithica College in New York State, it was nearly three in the morning. Filling up the gas tank, and then going into the station to buy a cappuccino, Hannibal thought about the radio he'd been listening to. All night, he had kept it on a news station. So far, there was absolutely no news about a former FBI agent gone missing, or a 'criminally insane' fugitive that had been spotted in Connecticut. That was a good sign.  
  
Returning to the car, he took several minutes to watch Clarice sleep. Hours ago, she had pulled her coat off, and unbuckled her seat belt. Reclining the seat, she'd fallen asleep under the leather coat he'd placed over her like a blanket. Simply enjoying the view of her sleeping soundly, he'd driven without nodding off to the droning newscasters voice.  
  
Watching her sleep was something Hannibal had only done twice. The first time had been in her apartment, days before Chesapeake. But at that time, he'd been in a slight hurry. The only time he'd had to admire her form on the living room chair was when he'd lit the candles on the coffee table. The second occasion had been more of a pain and drug induced sleep. Not the kind that completely relaxed her entire body.  
  
Now, watching her sleep, there was no indication that Clarice would be waking any time soon. Hannibal certainly didn't want to disturb what must have been the first good nights sleep she'd had in a very long time. Yet after years of longing, he could help but reach out to caress her cheek now that he was given the chance. As the back of his fingers stroked the soft skin, Clarice hummed in pleasure, and tilted her head towards his tender touch. She was stirring from sleep, and he paused in his caress before pulling away; torn between keeping contact with her flesh to his, and waking her.  
  
"Where…?" Her voice was slurred with sleep. Hannibal quickly lifted his hand once more, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.  
  
"Go back to sleep, little Starling." He said in a soft, even voice. "It isn't time for you to wake up yet. I just stopped to stretch my legs."  
  
She hummed again in what sounded like it would've been 'alright' if verbalized. Then, snuggling down under his leather coat, she relaxed once more. Hannibal smiled as she settled back into sleep, and turned to close his car door. Yet he saw someone standing there in his way. It was the man whom had taken his money in the station.  
  
"Can I help you?" Hannibal asked irritably.  
  
"Yeah, you can." The young man replied sharply. "You only gave me a twenty. You owe me forty bucks."  
  
'Do I, now?' Hannibal thought to himself with a scowl.  
  
"I do believe you're mistaken." He replied in a steely, yet soft voice. "Do you want to see my receipt?" He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and turned on the light above his head. He looked at it briefly, saw that it read he'd given the man an even twenty dollars and received no change in return, as the gas and cappuccino had come up to twenty dollars flat. Then, he handed it to the man with two fingers. "As you can see, I am the one who is right."  
  
"You owe me forty dollars." He insisted.  
  
"Really?" 'Leave it to you to ruin my good mood.' Sighing heavily, Hannibal stood up out of the car. "Here… let me get some more money out of my daughters purse." He motioned over his shoulder to the sleeping Clarice, and then reached into the back seat compartment where he kept his harpy. 'I really didn't want to do this. I did promise Clarice… but then again… why should she have to know?'  
  
Then, an idea struck him, and he smiled. Reaching over the back seat, he touched Clarice's shoulder, gently shaking her into a state of semi-wakefulness.  
  
"Darling, this man is trying to rip me off." He stated when she looked to him questioningly. Her blue eyes turned towards the man standing by the driver side door, and then narrowed. "Tell him what you do for a living, dearest."  
  
"I work for the FBI." She stated softly, without hesitation. "And I don't like it when someone tries to pull of a prank with someone who has an IQ of at least three times their own."  
  
"Bullshit." The man spat. "I'm not ripping anyone off, and no one has an IQ that high."  
  
"Sir, you're being rude." Clarice noted, her eyes looking to Hannibal a bit warily. She knew exactly what he was in the back seat for. She knew the harpy was there. Yet he looked back at her steadily.  
  
"I have an incredible dislike for rude people." He agreed. "Now, if you don't let us go, I shall have to let my daughter make the right contacts to see you either fired or arrested. I have the receipt, and unless you've thrown it out or destroyed it, I believe you have a copy of what I've bought. Don't mess with us, Sir."  
  
The man growled softly, and went to round the back door to the Taurus. Hannibal stood out of the car quickly, harpy in hand. The man saw it, and his eyes bulged.  
  
"You really shouldn't try to mess with someone you don't know." He told the man, who began backing up. "Now… you made a mistake. Did you not."  
  
The man lifted his hands in surrender.  
  
"Sure buddy… sure… whatever you say."  
  
"Thank you." He held onto the harpy as he climbed into the front seat, closed the door, and buckled up. As he turned the key in the ignition, he rolled down his drivers side window to look up at the man, who was still backing off. "You have a good evening." Then, he peeled out of a gas station for the second time that night.  
  
Clarice sat in the passenger seat, staring at Hannibal for a long time. It was several minutes that he tried to ignore her piercing and scolding eyes. Yet her gaze was the only one that could phase him. He caught himself glancing to her every few seconds, waiting for her to say something. Yet finally, she just let out a long and heavy sigh, turning to look straight ahead of them.  
  
"You would've done it, wouldn't you?" She whispered.  
  
"Now, Clarice. You know better than that." He stated. "I might've made sure he let us leave, but I would've left him alive." Hannibal chuckled softly, and reached out to touch her knee. "Don't worry, Clarice. I told you. That's all over with now. No more of that."  
  
"All right…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "Hannibal… please… I can't stand that mans voice anymore. Can't you put something into the cassette player?"  
  
"There's Mozart in the glove compartment." He indicated the glove box with a nod of his head. Clarice moaned as she had to sit up and get out the tapes, and then put them into the cassette player. She sat perched on the seat for a long moment to adjust the volume, and then leaned back, once again falling asleep.  
  
"Sleep well, Clarice." Hannibal entreated her gently. "We have a long ways to go yet." 


	11. Silence

Chapter 11: Silence  
  
The Maryland University Library was almost empty at ten-thirty PM. In another hour, they would close, and the Internet addicts whose faces loomed in front of glowing screens would be shooed away until early the following morning when they re-opened. One or two people sat at tables, studiously taking down notes from text books and encyclopedia's for what looked to be hefty projects. It was incredibly quiet, as the clerk sat behind a tall desk reading Stephen King. No one looked up or around to spare the couple by one computer even a second glance.  
  
"Here it is." Hannibal said in a very low voice, lifting his finger to follow the lines of a newspaper article from Connecticut. "Ah yes… it looks like there was a drug bust at your apartments. They must have wanted to explain the disturbance to you."  
  
"Click on that photo…" Clarice whispered, pointing to a snapshot a reporter had taken the following morning. As the thumbnail turned into a full-screened black and white photograph, Clarice squinted against the bright back round of the screen. "Damn it! Ardelia!"  
  
Hannibal looked at the face in the picture with slight amusement. There stood FBI Special Agent Ardelia Mapp, coming out of the open front door of Clarice's apartment, looking perturbed.  
  
"I wonder if she's worried about you, Clarice." He allowed himself to chuckle. "At least she's a good friend. The article even mentions your disappearance."  
  
"Maybe I should e-mail her."  
  
"Not unless you want her to trace our current whereabouts." Logging off of the Internet Explorer program, Hannibal turned in the swivel chair, and took her hands gently in his own. "Tomorrow we can write a letter to her if you want her to know you're well. Though they will probably start hunting you down if you don't make at least a token appearance."  
  
"And risk them following me back to you?" She smirked. "I don't think so, Hannibal. You won't get rid of me so easily."  
  
"No, not you." He agreed, smiling. "You're truly enjoying this, aren't you, Clarice? Didn't think this would be so much fun, did you?"  
  
Laughing, she took a step back so that he had room to stand, and then they walked out of the library together. Five minutes later, Clarice returned, logged back onto the Internet Explorer, and checked out the FBI's most wanted list. There was Dr. Lecter's face at number one of America's ten most wanted. Last time she had looked out of curiosity, he had been at number six. Something didn't seem right to her about that, and she wondered if she should tell Hannibal.  
  
'Maybe they know.' She wondered. 'But I won't do anything just yet… I'll wait a few days and see what the news says. The press is never kept quiet for long.'  
  
"Clarice – let's go!" She turned to see him a few feet behind her, and she sighed, standing to walk out of the library on his arm. They talked about trivial matters until they reached their hotel room -- which had only one King sized bed – and then set to taking showers and getting dressed for bed. Since Saturday, Clarice had been the one signing them into hotels. After all, she wasn't any sort of fugitive – as far as she knew. She didn't want Hannibal to be discovered because of some security camera watching him sign them in under an assumed name with her credit cards.  
  
"You're worried about what's going to happen, aren't you?" He asked as they settled side by side in the bed, simply holding hands. "It's going to be all right, Clarice. Do you think I'd let anything happen, to me or you, now that you're with me?"  
  
At his words, Clarice rolled onto her side to press up against him. They had never been intimate when spending a night in the same bed. Yet they were never far away from one another. Hannibal had a new habit of pulling her into his arms in his sleep, and holding her possessively against him so that she couldn't pull away unless she woke him up first. Yet she didn't mind being temporarily held prisoner by his arms. She wasn't afraid of them.  
  
"There's something I haven't told you." She whispered.  
  
"And what is that?" With one arm sliding under her to hold her, the other hand reached up to turn off the bedside lamp.  
  
"I love you."  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
N/A – I don't want something dramatic to happen to them every single chapter. I'm the queen of mellow drama as it is. Anyhow, I'm still working things over in my mind so give me a bit of time to come up with something useful, please. I can't even think of how Hannibal would be tracked down. 


	12. A dangerous Relationship

Chapter 12: A dangerous relationship. (Temporary title?)  
  
They were words she had never spoken. Hearing them whispered into the darkness made Hannibal's heart beat faster. Only she could possibly have made him lose his sense of composure and calm. The handless arm that was about Clarice tightened. He brought his mouth down into the darkness, and fell on something smooth and hard. Her forehead. Hannibal could tell by the small breaths of air touching his chest, which was slightly exposed by his partially opened night shirt.  
  
"I'm glad you've told me." He chuckled, bringing his hand up to touch her cheek. His fingers skimmed about, memorizing every bit of her face that he already knew by sight. Then, taking her chin, his mouth found hers.  
  
She cried out something that was muffled by his kiss, and he drew back in silent questioning.  
  
"You … don't… have to stop…" She whispered, her breath a bit unsteady. Hannibal smiled again. Leaning down, he kissed her again… and then his composure and control was forgotten altogether.  
  
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^  
  
Five o'clock in the morning, and Clarice was in the shower. Yet she was exhausted. No doubt that Hannibal was tired as well, but they had to get up and keep moving around. She understood that perfectly well. If anyone saw Hannibal and recognized him, their short time together could come to a screeching and painful halt.  
  
Hannibal came into the room using a scan key, carrying freshly cleaned clothing from the past few days of travel. He began to arrange their things so they'd be ready to leave shortly after Clarice came out of the shower. Yet just as he was about to put his own clothes away, he saw the TV was set to the ever-annoying preview channel, that had nothing but infomercials above the TV schedule. Seizing up the controller, he put the channel to CNN. Then, without glancing at the screen, he began to arrange her things neatly in the suitcase.  
  
"…identified as those of Dr. Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter."  
  
He turned from the suitcases with shocked eyes. There was his face on the screen – right next to a picture of Clarice. On a black bar across the bottom of her picture, in bold white print, read the word MISSING.  
  
"He is believed he might be holding her hostage." A male newscaster appeared on screen, the usual sheets of paper held in front of him. "If you see them, make no approach whatsoever. Call the nearest law enforcement agency immediately. Ddo not try to approach Lecter by any means."  
  
'Good lord" Hannibal thought, moving to knock on the bathroom door. 'Maybe I should pay more attention next time.'  
  
"Clarice! Get dressed! We're leaving!"  
  
The door popped open, and he realized in the back of his mind that she hadn't locked the door. Strange that he should realize such a thing at a moment like that. She looked out at him, wrapped from head to knee in towels.  
  
"What's the rush?" she asked, her skin pink from the steamy room.  
  
"I seem to be holding you hostage." He said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder towards the TV. "My finger prints were identified at your apartment, so it seems. I didn't see the entire broadcast. They think I've kidnapped you."  
  
Clarice lifted a hand, her fingers rubbing at her temples as though she'd suddenly gotten a severe headache. She made a low guttural sound in her throat that worried Hannibal, but he said nothing about it.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
"You're far too fond of that word." He smirked, again wondering how he managed his humor at such a moment. "You could use something more colorful, you know.  
  
"Still; I think it's best we get a move on. People have seen us here, and might have seen the news."  
  
Nodding, Clarice held up a hand that signified he wait, and then slammed the door in his face to finish getting dressed.  
  
Hannibal thought to himself that it was a rather rude thing to do to a man you'd just recently confessed to loving… and then moved on to prove it physically. Smirking, he turned to finish cleaning up their room, using a wet towel in the out-of-bathroom sink to wash anyplace that his fingerprints had touched.  
  
Clarice emerged from the bathroom five minutes later. Her hair was mostly dry, combed through; and there was an after-shower glow to her skin. She wore a pair of black jeans, and a navy blue silk blouse with long sleeves.  
  
"So basically, you can't be seen anywhere without the risk of being found." She sighed.  
  
"That would be the jist of it." He replied smoothly. "We probably can't even get out of the country now."  
  
Clarice nodded. Of course she was familiar with how the FBI worked – especially where it concerned criminal-at-large Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  
  
"I'll have to rent us a new car. We'll get rid of yours." She said, grabbing up her purse and coat. "I can get one with tinted windows in the back, and that way you won't be seen by anyone at all while we're on the road. That would work, wouldn't it?"  
  
"I'm glad you aren't foolish enough to suggest you go back." Hannibal staged, taking up their room key, and handing it to her. "As I said last night… I'm not about to let you go now."  
  
Clarice went to sign them out of their room while Hannibal went to get the car. Just as the clerk was giving her a receipt, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked down to see finely manicured nails.  
  
"Clarice!"  
  
'Shit – not now! Not now!' She thought to herself. Slowly turning, her blue eyes met the brown ones of Special Agent Ardelia Mapp.  
  
"Clarice, where the hell have you been?" She looked over her shoulder briefly to the clerk. "Thank you, Sir." She quickly took Clarice's arm, dragging her across the lobby to the private lounge. "Girl, we've been looking everywhere for you! We thought that Lecter had found you! His prints are in your apartment kitchen door!"  
  
'So he was right about them looking through my apartment for fingerprints.' Clarice thought to herself quietly.  
  
"I just wanted some time away." She said in a quiet voice. "Ardelia, why the hell did you come all the way out here? If Lecter has been at my place, as you suggest, then obviously he was there when I was out – or after I left. I haven't seen him. He hasn't contacted me at any time."  
  
"I can see right through you." Ardelia hissed. "What the hell are you doing?? You've never tried to protect him."  
  
"Right through me?" Clarice challenged. "Ardelia, what the hell do you know? If I had seen him again, you would've known about it a long time ago. Either you would have found my body – whatever was left of it. Or… or you would've gotten a call from me. The police would have, at least."  
  
Ardelia examined her friends' face very closely for a long minute."  
  
"Clarice, are you all right? You look like you haven't slept in days."  
  
"I've exhausted myself sight seeing. So what?"  
  
Clarice and Ardelia simply stood staring at each other in a mental stand-off. Neither of them was willing to break down. Clarice wanted to protect Hannibal – and now herself. Ardelia wanted to protect Clarice from what she thought was terrible danger. Yet something seemed totally wrong about all this.  
  
"You were home only two minutes before the police knocked on your door, so I was told." She said finally. "Why did you take off?"  
  
"I walked down to a friends house to say I was taking off, and then I took a plane." She lied. God, this was hard. Lying to Ardelia was something she'd never even tried to do.  
  
"It sure as hell wasn't my house." Ardelia stated. "For one, it's in D.C. And two… Clarice… you never called me that day. Or e-mailed me. Do you want me to believe this crock of shit?"  
  
"I expect you to believe your friends, Ardelia."  
  
They still stared at each other, and then Clarice, from the corner of her eye, could see Hannibal standing just outside the window, watching cautiously. She hoped to God that he wouldn't be seen. Her eyes lowered.  
  
"Would it make you happy if I went home, Ardelia?"  
  
"Immensely."  
  
"All right…" Adjusting her purse over her shoulder, Clarice straightened. "Let's go…"  
  
She saw Hannibal duck around the corner of the building as they came out of it, and over to Ardelia's car. Clarice told her that she had to get her bag out of her rented car, and would be right back. Then, when she returned, she'd left the keys on top of the back bumper, and a note on top of Hannibal's suitcase.  
  
Hannibal,  
  
I had to go with her. Wait for me here. I promise I'll be back.  
  
Yours,  
  
Clarice 


	13. A Storm on the Horizon

Chapter 13: A Storm on the Horizon  
  
Hannibal, of course, did not do what Clarice had asked him to in her letter. Finding her ATM card put deliberately under the note, he smirked softly. That little piece of plastic could very well get him back to Mansfield before anyone knew he was using it. There was just one little problem – which was solved the moment he turned the note over.  
  
050283  
  
The pin number.  
  
Yet at the same time, he smelt a trap. It was still far off, but approaching like a dangerous storm. The dark clouds of this trap could be seen growing on the horizon.  
  
"Clarice." He murmured with worry. "Are you all right?"  
  
No. She wasn't all right. She was in trouble. He simply knew it. Climbing into the Taurus Clarice always teased, he pulled into the nearby highway.  
  
He was not going to follow the little green Buick that Ardelia had been driving. Hannibal was on his way to Baltimore. To a familiar abandoned building where he might wait, and bide his time. He wondered if he'd see ghosts there, although it was simply a thought to entertain himself. To keep himself from worrying too much about Clarice too soon. He could almost hear the voice of a particular ghost. A real ghost.  
  
"Look at the blood!" 


	14. The Storm

Chapter 14: The Storm  
  
Clarice looked around the airport with dread. A voice in her head told her not to get on the plane. There was a terrible feeling of foreboding all about her. Ardelia was quiet, as though listening to something.  
  
Clarice started looking her over for wires or ear pieces; microphones, or pins that might have cameras in them. Yet she seemed clean. Still, Clarice wasn't about to tell her anything about what had happened. She was still an FBI agent. She could still cause potential harm with her news.  
  
"When we get to Quantico, you'd better level with me." Ardelia said as they moved towards their gate. She was keeping one hand close to her side at all times, Clarice realized. She was armed. Yet as an FBI agent, she was authorized to travel armed.  
  
"I don't want to go to Quantico." She stopped when she realized what Ardelia had said. "I'm going back to Mansfield. I'll never step foot on Quantico again."  
  
"You can't." Ardelia snapped. "Lecter will find you there."  
  
"Then I'll go somewhere altogether different."  
  
"Don't you even think about that, girl. Now let's go. Quantico."  
  
Sighing, Clarice got onto the plane. Almost immediately, she knew she should have trusted her instincts. Ardelia already knew about Hannibal. The whole agency knew. On the plane, several agents came forward to arrest her. The crimes they charged her with had fancy, technical names. Yet basically, her crime was being near Hannibal Lecter. They planned to charge her with conspiracy, and with obstruction of justice.  
  
Clarice was put into handcuffs and sat down towards the back of the plane. Ardelia didn't look at her. They'd apprehended her on the plane where Hannibal would be unable to help her if he'd followed them to the airport. Yet cell phones and walkmans confirmed that he was nowhere to be seen in the airport terminal. As long as he thought he was safe, they could take their time in organizing an arrest. As long as he didn't know about the trap they'd set for Clarice, they could try and come up with a good strategy for apprehending him.  
  
"Damn you, Ardelia." She finally muttered bitterly. "Damn you for taking this away from me." 


	15. The Silence of the Lamb

Chapter 15: Interrogation/The Silence of the Lamb  
  
"Was he at the hotel with you this morning, Clarice?" Ardelia was trying to coax answers out of her old room mate. "I can get you out of this mess if you talk to me. No one can do more than prove you were in his company. Tell me how he managed to keep you from running, or calling the authorities."  
  
She said nothing; just stared into space. Her emotions ran so high that not even crying was a possibility. Yet she heard everything that was said to her. In her mind, she answered them with snide remarks. 'How he kept me from? I didn't want to you idiotic bitch.'  
  
"Well, he'll come to get her if he's as infatuated as you suggest, Mapp." That was the voice of a male agent Clarice had never seen before. He seemed to be Ardelia's partner. Yet she'd never spoken of a partner in her e-mails.  
  
"Dr. Lecter deserves just a little bit more credit than that." Clarice suddenly sighed. "He won't give up his freedom on my account. He won't lose anything on my account." Inwardly, she hoped she was right. Although Hannibal loved her, she didn't know how far he might go for her welfare. As far as she knew, as long as she was safe, he might not do anything. Her mind analyzed the pros and cons to everything she said aloud before speaking. She knew she hadn't said too much. Even as the agents stared at her.  
  
"Clarice, let me help you get out of this mess."  
  
"I'm not afraid of prison."  
  
"Do you mean to say that you might deserve to go to prison, Ms. Starling?" The male agent asked.  
  
Clarice stood, and walked away. Her calm exterior visibly shook them. That was good. One thing she'd learned from experience when interviewing Hannibal in Baltimore was that less is more. They would learn nothing unless she wanted them to. The hard part was taking the time to dissect everything she wanted to say. To weigh every word carefully for how much it gave away.  
  
"Just tell us if you've seen him, Clarice." Ardelia entreated.  
  
"I don't have to say one damn word." She replied. Saying that word again made her cringe, remembering what Hannibal had said about her fondness to it only that morning. "I want something to eat."  
  
Sighing, the man stormed out of the interrogation room. Clarice and her now ex-best friend sat in an uncomfortable silence. Clarice would never forgive Ardelia for what she had done. Clasping her arms behind her back, she stood with her shoulders squared, facing the mirror she knew from experience had men and/or women watching from the other side. She kept her face carefully emotionless. Did this unnerve them, she wondered? Did they see the reminiscence of Dr. Lecter's old games at apathy? 


	16. Hannibal's New Game

Chapter 16: Hannibal's New Game  
  
The phone rang six days later; the little cellular buzzing out an off- key rendition of "Fur Elise". Ardelia Mapp fished it out of her coat pocket as she stepped into the Behavioral Science building at Quantico. For days, she had tried to make Clarice speak to her about her days with Hannibal. Yet nothing had made her break down. She'd even refuse to answer yes or no questions as simple as whether or not she was thirsty. The grill had exhausted Ardelia and her partner, Kevin, and they needed help. That was why she was at Quantico. To speak to the knew head of Behavioral Science.  
  
"Mapp."  
  
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Ardelia sighed.  
  
"Hello? Mapp here!"  
  
"Was it worth taking away her freedom, Ms. Ardelia?" A male voice asked her. She didn't recognize it. "Was it worth betraying your friendship?"  
  
"Who is this?" Annoyed, she put the phone up to her opposite ear. Holding it to her ear with her shoulder, she began to zipper up a small leather jacket in order to keep the wind from cutting through her clothes.  
  
"Take a really good guess."  
  
Her heart stopped beating momentarily, and she had to concentrate on breathing.  
  
"Isn't that silk blouse a little cool for this time of year, Ardelia?"  
  
Turning off the cell phone, Ardelia stumbled into the building on her high-heeled shoes with a soft cry of pain. Blisters were going to start forming if she wasn't careful. Yet that didn't matter. He knew what she was wearing, and she didn't like that.  
  
'Dear God.' She thought. 'Would he really risk getting so close to swarms of Federal Agents? Damn! Get someone to –"  
  
The phone rang again, and she nearly dropped it. Pressing the talk button, she took a deep breath.  
  
"Mapp here."  
  
"That was rude, Ardelia." Hannibal said disapprovingly. "Don't you know how much I detest rude people?"  
  
Steeling her courage, the special agent took in a deep breath.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"To see Clarice… exonerated. She's innocent."  
  
She tried to wave down another agent, yet all she saw were trainees.  
  
"If Clarice is harmed, I'll see you pay. Krendler tried to hurt her. He can't hurt anyone anymore. Just like Miggs."  
  
Ardelia knew that her blood was going cold. Something in her played back an old audio memory of a Claude Rains line from some old horror film.  
  
**Biancarolli didn't know how much I loved you. Now she knows.**  
  
"Dr. Lecter. If you want to help her, turn yourself in. You can testify for her."  
  
Hannibal chuckled. It was a sound that completely unnerved her.  
  
"Ta-Ta for now, Agent Mapp. You will tell Clarice I called, won't you?"  
  
The line went dead. 


	17. Tension Builds

1 Chapter 17: Tension Builds  
  
N/A – You wanted longer chapters… so here you go. What was once originally two chapters – in one. Sorry it's taking so long now. My mind is losing it's momentum.  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Hannibal sat in the abandoned Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally insane. The orderlies lounge was pitch black below ground, where he sat. It was less than a-hundred yards from his old prison cell, but that thought never once crossed his mind. He certainly didn't waste any time walking down the disgusting hallways to look at it again. The place where he'd first caught a glimpse of the attractive, ambitious, and young Clarice Starling. That was all he thought about that place now. It wasn't important to see it.  
  
There was a stolen cell phone in his hand, since the payphone attached to the wall above his head – and everything else in the building for that matter – was cut off from power.  
  
Hannibal, of course, hadn't been looking at Ardelia when he'd called her that morning. He'd only watched her leave her house – a move he wouldn't repeat. She'd be closely observed now. Still… he would make another phone call. At least until the phone was reported stolen, and the piece of technology would prove useless to him, no one would be able to trace the calls to his hide-out.  
  
He ran his hands over his face, leaving the cell phone in his lap temporarily. Incarceration had been the very hell his mind feared. To have Clarice in a cell where he couldn't reach her was even worse. Lifting the cell phone again, he blindly punched in Ardelia's number.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
His breath caught in his throat, and he nearly dropped the phone. Clever Ardelia Mapp to do this. The voice on the other end of the line was soft from disuse. But without a doubt, he recognized it as belonging to his Clarice. What did Ms. Mapp have up her sleeve?  
  
"My little Starling." He whispered. "What is she planning by giving you the phone?"  
  
There was a moment of quiet while she cleared her throat. It sounded almost as though she was ill, but he knew not speaking for long periods of time could do that to a throat. Had she refused to speak to anyone until now? He didn't know. All he knew came from the papers, and that was that she refused to make any statements. Until now, he hadn't taken that literally.  
  
"She thinks I'll talk you out of stalking her." Clarice whispered.  
  
"Oh… but it's so much fun!" Hannibal chuckled. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes." She sighed. "Bored… but safe." She cleared her throat again. "The food is lousy."  
  
"Clarice… who's listening to the conversation?"  
  
"Mapp is." Her failure to call Ardelia by her first name didn't fail to make it clear to him she hated the woman now. That was good, to a degree. Although he didn't wish for anything like this to have happened, he thought it would be easier to take care of Ardelia should the need arise. Then Clarice wouldn't be so furious with him.  
  
"Well, well, well… I hope she makes sure you get taken care of."  
  
"She'll try." Clarice sighed. "You want her to talk?"  
  
"Most definitely not." He said crisply. "Clarice, keep the phone with you. I'll call you again. I won't speak to Mapp. Only you."  
  
"Alright." She said. It sounded as though she might have a smirk.  
  
"Clarice. Tell them the truth if you want to."  
  
"Which truth would that be, Doctor?" She asked drolly. "Talk to you soon… Hannibal."  
  
"Ta."  
  
Hanging up, Hannibal lay his head back against the cement block wall. Clarice was all right. Yet that was very little comfort to him. He could do absolutely nothing to get her out. Why was she waiting to tell them the truth? What sort of crimes could they possibly charge her for that they hadn't already pinned on her already? He didn't think much.  
  
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^  
  
Six weeks passed. Clarice was kept in solitude; accessed only by Ardelia, her partner Kevin, and daily phone calls from Hannibal. Every call was tapped, so they didn't last long, and the three simple words they both wanted to whisper remained unspoken between them. Their love for one another. Each call, Hannibal seemed more annoyed at their predicament. Each time he hung up, they could both feel the tension around them because of how they both wanted to reassure one another of their past. They loved each other. They'd spoken the words to one another before.  
  
"I .. I don't feel very well today." Clarice sighed during one of their calls. "I'm going to see a doctor before they transfer me, I think."  
  
"Are they moving you?" Hannibal's already angry voice rose. It was difficult for him to call her, talk to her while other people were listening in on their conversation, and remain calm all of the time. It was getting on his nerves. Now this new piece of news worried him to know end. "When? To where?"  
  
"I don't know." She replied. "Sometime this week, but I don't know where. They don't want me telling you."  
  
"Sensible." He admitted. "Clarice, are you all right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's the first lie you've told me in a very long time." He stated. "What happened? What's the matter?"  
  
"Maybe I'll tell you sometime." She whispered. "Good-bye, Hannibal."  
  
"Clarice –"  
  
She turned off the cell phone, passing it through the cell bars to Ardelia. Over her shoulder stood her partner Kevin. Clarice gave him a look of acid.  
  
"Now, do you want to tell me what the hell is going on with you?" Ardelia asked softly. "I'm sorry about yesterday. But I can't control being sick. Kevin was here."  
  
"I think I hate him even more than I hate you." Clarice spat venomously. "I never want him near me again! Get him out of here!"  
  
Ardelia looked over her shoulder at Kevin, startled, and then back to Clarice. She put her cell phone into her purse quickly.  
  
"What happened?" She demanded.  
  
"Be damned if I know." Kevin replied with an annoyed shrug.  
  
"Kevin – outside – now." Ardelia hissed. "Come on! Move it!"  
  
Clarice made herself smile humorlessly as Kevin was herded down the hall, and undoubtedly into a prison cell. She hoped so. She hated him that much.  
  
Her hair had grown longer, and was halfway down her back now. She was given a soft-bristled brush each morning to run through her hair, and ribbon to pull it back into a pony tail. Her clothes were very simple. She was given a blue button-up short-sleeved shirt, blue slacks, and white socks and shoes. At night she was given a pair of fluffy slippers – courtesy of Ardelia – and a plain white cotton nightgown. She was an inmate, but because there was very little evidence against her except for the obvious – hearsay – she was allowed to be comfortable. Yet never was Clarice allowed out of her cell. Never. They weren't afraid of her trying to escape, so much as Hannibal Lecter trying to get her out of there himself.  
  
Ardelia came back half of an hour after she escorted Kevin out of the building, and looked in on Clarice with concern. Never had she wanted to turn against her friend. Even Clarice thought she understood that. Ardelia Mapp had just been doing her job – as Clarice had once shot a friend doing her job. She remembered the fish market. Yet that hadn't been the same thing. That wasn't supposed to have ended like that.  
  
"Clarice… do you want a doctor to look at you?" She asked softly. "I'm sorry…"  
  
"I want to be looked at, yes. For every possible test she can give me." Clarice stood up, and walked over to the bars, looking through them to Ardelia. "If I don't have a female doctor, so help me, Ardelia –"  
  
"Relax, I know. I understand." She smiled weakly. She herself looked sick. "I've already talked to my superior. Kevin has been removed from this case as my partner. If you want, you can bring charges against him. It will be hard to arrange, but –"  
  
"We'll see." She said. "For now… the doctor."  
  
"I'll call her now."  
  
Among other things, the doctor was to test her for evidence of a physical or sexual assault. Clarice knew that she'd test positive for such tests. All she'd done overnight since Kevin was left alone with her on Ardelia's sick day was change from her nightgown into her regular clothes. She hadn't washed herself, or given up the nightgown to be washed. 


	18. News

Chapter 18: NEWS  
  
NA – Didn't think I'd do that, would you? Well if any of you want to see blood n' gore, then I have to have some good reason to put it in there. I at least try to make Hannibal have a really good excuse for what he does. The man may be insane, but he's lucid!  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Hannibal had been anxious when Clarice lied to him over the phone. Why she had any reason to lie to him, he didn't know. She knew he would take care of her, if he could. Even if she just told him what was wrong, he would've tried to help her to the best of his ability. Surely she knew and understood that. Yet when she lied to him, that cut him deeply. Still, he was sure there had to be a good reason behind it.  
  
Three days had passed since that phone call, and from then on, he had been unable to reach her. The phone was always turned off, or Ardelia answered. She would tell Hannibal that Clarice didn't want to talk to him. That, of course, was a lie. He could read the tones in her voice perfectly. Something was going on, and he didn't like the way things were turning out. Then again, perhaps Clarice had learned where she was being transferred to, and they didn't want her telling him – at least until after she was in the new secured area. Still, he was extremely upset.  
  
He picked up the cell phone from off the dusty orderly lounge table, where there sat remnants of a bologna sandwich with cheese and mayonnaise, as well as a bottle of Nestea iced tea with lemon. Unsweetened. The place was mostly dark, for he only had the little black and white portable TV on, the sound turned all the way down.  
  
"Mapp."  
  
"I want to talk to Clarice – now!" He spat.  
  
"Dr. Lecter, I told you no. Now please excuse me. I have to get going."  
  
The phone hung up, and he growled, tossing the useless piece of mechanical junk to the floor in his fury. This was driving him even further into insanity than he already was. Clarice had been ill the last time he spoke to her, and Ardelia wouldn't even tell him what had happened. She wouldn't say if Clarice was better or worse. She wouldn't say when they were moving her so he could at least know how busy they would be on certain days. That, naturally, was a very wise move on the FBI's part.  
  
He turned to the TV then, and suddenly saw a news broadcaster standing just outside of the nearest minimum security correctional facility. He knew that was where Clarice had been for the past weeks, and so in curiosity, reached out to push the volume up. The attractive young redhead with green eyes had a sweet low voice as he began to listen.  
  
"…Waiting for a glimpse of the former FBI agent, Clarice Starling, who has recently been arrested for unclear charges having to do with the infamous Dr. Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter." She said. "We're hoping that we'll be able to ask her some questions before she's taken off to a new secure location where the FBI apparently hopes to keep her safe from the criminal she was once claimed to have aided in escaping first a secure location in Tennessee… and then the Chesapeake where one of her fellow FBI officers was mutilated and killed by the Doctor."  
  
Hannibal only listened with half of an ear. The ramblings of the reporter didn't really interest him. The only thing she'd said of any interest was that soon Clarice would be walking out of the doors to the building just over her shoulder… and that he would catch his first glimpse of her in a very long time.  
  
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^- ^-^-^-  
  
"Now don't say anything to them out there." Ardelia whispered to Clarice as the handcuffs binding her wrists behind her back were checked. Clarice had refused to place a coat over her head so that she could be spared being seen by the video cameras, and Ardelia feared she knew why. "They're vultures, Clarice, and I'm sure that no good will come out of speaking to them. It will only harm your situation further."  
  
"Whatever you say, Agent Mapp." Clarice replied with snapping sarcasm. She was getting very good at behaving like the Good Doctor when she truly wanted to.  
  
Agent Mapp took her arm above the elbow, and escorted her outside. Immediately, camera lights blinded them, and flashes of blue could be seen from the blackness beyond the bright white lights. There were over a dozen shouting voices, all yelling to Clarice at once. Ridiculous questions, most of them. For a while, it seemed they would make it through the crowd without circumstance… yet Clarice suddenly stopped walking, and turned to a particular camera. She smiled faintly, and said to the entire audience.  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^- ^-^-^-  
  
The bottle of Nestea he'd been about to take a lingering sip from fell from Hannibal's fingers, and landed hard on the sickly colored carpet. He could hear the gurgle-gurgle-gurgle-blunk-gurgle as the liter bottle began to empty its' contents all over the floor, yet he wasn't paying any attention to it. His eyes were glued to the screen, where a thin and seemingly uneasy – but happy – Clarice was escorted hastily past the remaining reporters, and into a inconspicuous looking white fan with faded paint, scratches, and chips. The license plate was not shown by the cameras, and he knew that was the work of FBI agents telling the cameras ahead of time not to film it even by accident.  
  
'Pregnant? My Clarice?' he wondered to himself, feeling his heart hammer inside his ribs. 'My Clarice is pregnant with our baby? It couldn't be anyone else's… of course. I know she hasn't been with anyone else in over a year. I've watched her closely enough.'  
  
It seemed strange to him. More than strange. He was delighted, euphoric even. Yet it was strange. The Good Doctor Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter… a father? Very odd indeed. He finally smiled, and crouched down to straighten the fallen liter of iced tea, which had only a fourth of liquid left in it.  
  
As he walked to a cabinet to pick up a roll of paper towels which he'd bought over the past few weeks, there was a sudden change to the building. Hannibal could feel the place shudder, and then there was a hum of electricity. In slight alarm, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Was someone in the building, turning the power on? Or was the power being turned on from an outer source? Had they found him, or had someone decided to buy and restore the place? He knew nothing of it being for sale. As he waited, the lights above him suddenly flickered a few times, then came on. Most of the bulbs in the ceiling had died, and one empty socket momentarily shot white and blue sparks, then relaxed.  
  
'I think I have visitors.' He mused to himself. 'And they've found the fuse box.'  
  
Reaching for the TV, he quickly pressed the off button, and then silently slipped out of the room. The fuse box was in the sub-levels of the building, where he was. Yet the place was big enough where he was certain he might sneak about and find out who his unwelcome callers were. Edging through each corridor, he listened for voices.  
  
"Now… how the hell are we supposed to find a clean cell? Look at this place."  
  
"We'll just have to work on it. Even if we aren't finished when they get here."  
  
"We don't have much time, you know."  
  
"Well he'll never think to look here. Ardelia told us to do a job, so we're doing it."  
  
Two agents, he realized, leaning against a wall in silence. He even held his breath. His heart was still pounding at the news that Clarice was pregnant. Did they hear it? He didn't think so. He hoped not. Both of the agents now in his domain were male. Sneaking towards a corner, he peeked around it. The agents were too busy struggling with old keys in the jammed lock of an office door to notice him there. One of them was tall with rusty colored hair, and light blue eyes. The colorings made Hannibal think of himself just a little bit at a younger age. The other man was just a little bit taller than average height for a man his age. He had black, slightly curly hair, and deep green eyes. Hannibal immediately thought of an Irishman he'd once met in his travels. Neither of them was armed. He could tell by the way their suits fit the contours of their bodies. They were strapping younger men, so he wasn't surprised they made their clothes fit so well.  
  
"Why the hell doesn't she bring the woman to a more secure location? There wont be anyone here to watch her, or watch out for Lecter."  
  
That piqued his interest. Then he realized precisely what they were talking about.  
  
Clarice… they were bringing Clarice to this place. How convenient!  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
NA – any ideas? I need to get rid of these two without causing too much trouble. I'm sorry but I'm not very good at blood n' gore…well I am but I'd rather be discreet. Give me a bit of time to get the next chapter up. 


	19. Hello again... hello

Chapter 19: Hello Again, Hello  
  
When the nondescript van pulled up in front of the abandoned building, Ardelia was pleased to see that the front doors were already open. She could tell from the car because she'd told the agents in training she'd sent ahead of her to leave the doors open. They'd want to air out at least some of the building while they used it, and it was best to start at the front door. Maybe using the front door wasn't the best of tactics for someone on what was nearly a secret mission, but Ardelia wasn't worried about running into Hannibal Lecter or any other threat here. In the back seat, Clarice Starling was with her hands still cuffed behind her back, between two other federal agents who'd accompanied them. From here on, there would be only Ardelia and Clarice… and occasionally and other agents she might call in for assistance. Once the men inside were dismissed, it would only be the two of them. Clarice wasn't going to hurt Ardelia. She wasn't going to tell Hannibal where they were. And Ardelia wasn't going to let harm come to Clarice. It seemed simple enough.  
  
Ardelia was very, very wrong.  
  
Turning off the car, she took the keys out of the ignition, and placed the keys above the sun visor over the steering wheel. She had the move The Terminator to thank for that little movie. The van she drove was very old, and in such bad shape she highly doubted anyone was going to steal it. Except for maybe some homeless bum who wanted to sleep somewhere that had heat. Climbing out of the van, she walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door, waiting as the two accompanying federal agents helped Clarice from her seat, and then they all walked in a cluster towards the front door.  
  
Clarice herself looked around in silence. She hadn't spoken since being rushed through the reporters and into the van. It didn't interest her where they were going, so she hadn't asked. Yet now, being here, she wondered if perhaps Ardelia was up to something. It worried her. Would her ex-best-friend actually torture her by bringing her to a place that caused such memories to flood through her mind. Memories of Hannibal… and even of that despicable Miggss? She didn't think Ardelia knew what she was doing.  
  
"I won't go in there." She said in a soft, hoarse voice.  
  
"You most certainly will." One of the agents replied harshly. Both of the assisting agents were female, at Clarice's request. She couldn't be happier if she never saw another man for as long as she lived – with the exception of Hannibal, and the baby in her womb if it came to be a boy. The agent pushed her insistently up the stairs without being too forceful, and from there Ardelia drew out a set of keys to unlock the nearby door to Dr. Chilton's old office. Her eyes squinted in the poor light of the dusty lamps overhead, and she had to struggle with the lock before it opened.  
  
"Damn them for locking the blasted door." She muttered. "They actually thought it would be of any use to lock the door of an abandoned building!"  
  
Moving into the office, she saw that the desk and chair – the only bits of furniture left in the room from when the place had closed down – were still dusty and covered with cobwebs. With a disgusted groan, she turned to the hallway where Clarice stood uneasily between the other agents.  
  
"Those bastards didn't do what I told them to." She grumbled. "You stay here with Clarice. I'm going to look for those lackwits."  
  
"Yes ma'am." One of the agents said in a quiet voice. They moved to lean against a wall, trusting that Clarice wouldn't get far if she tried to run away. They had guns. Her hands were immobilized behind her back. Who had the upper hand?  
  
Ardelia moved down the hall and into a nearby staircase. She was almost certain of where the men would have gone to. The sub-levels of the hospital. The cell where Hannibal Lecter had been kept for seven years or more. Ardelia couldn't remember. The two bastards had been so excited when they knew they were going to be coming here. Why the hell the morbid details interested them so much, she was sure she didn't know. But they had gone to fulfill their curiosity before doing their job, and she was going to see that they knew of her intense displeasure.  
  
"Hello, Agent Mapp."  
  
'Shit!'  
  
Ardelia whirled, but there was no one in the hallway. Her hand was on her gun, but her reflexes weren't fast enough to draw it. She also hadn't wanted to turn and shoot blindly. God only knew what she might hit, or if the bullet would ricochet off of something. That would be extremely dangerous. Calming her heart, she placed her hands to her sides, and began to turn back around.  
  
'God damn Hannibal.' She thought. 'Now I'm hearing things. Am I really that paranoid?' She didn't realize she'd thought the last thing aloud.  
  
"Hardly having hallucinations, Agent Mapp."  
  
She whirled again. Again, there was no one behind her. She began turning in slow circles, trying to figure out where Hannibal Lecter was hiding.  
  
"Do throw down your gun, Agent. I have the upper hand." His voice was perfectly calm, as it always had been – until that morning. "I am not going to attack you. Although I really should. You see… you've stumbled your way into my territory. I'm very territorial. Did you know that, Ardelia?"  
  
"Come out, Doctor." She ordered, lifting her gun and aiming everywhere she turned.  
  
"I don't think so, Agent." There was a pause. "Why didn't you tell me she was pregnant?" His voice seemed to come from everywhere. Ardelia damned the acoustics. By now she'd damned everything on Earth, and most things in Heaven and Hell.  
  
"That was for her to tell you, which she obviously did." She replied carefully. "Doctor Lecter, I'm not alone. They'll know if anything happens to me."  
  
"I highly doubt it. You didn't know anything had happened to your two friends."  
  
"What did happen to them?"  
  
"Why don't you go to my cell to find out? I promise that I'll leave you alone."  
  
Then, she could feel that he had told her the truth. A few seconds later, the abrupt absence of his presence could be felt in the air. She was alone in the hallway. Probably alone in the basement. She wondered if perhaps she should return to the other agents, and to Clarice. Yet the other agents were armed as she herself was. They could handle themselves. Turning, she slowly continued on her way.  
  
The hallway where Hannibal Lecter had been kept in his cell stank horribly. Ardelia bunched up her nose in disgust at the smell, and the sounds of mice scratching deep in the cells where the lights of the ward were turned off. Yet there was a light on in the Doctor's old cell. Apprehension filled her, and she wondered if this was how Clarice felt the first time she walked down the hallway. Her high-heels made dead clacks against the dusty old floor.  
  
A sound in the cell made her freeze, and again lift her gun. Yet when she eased around the corner leading to the door, she saw the two agents, tied and gagged, laying back to back on the cot that no longer had a mattress. Swearing, Ardelia put away the gun she held, and stepped into the cell to help them. They looked at her with wide eyes, and the eye popped open even wider before she heard the undeniable CLANK of the door slamming behind her. Then, there was the sound of the automatic lock going into place. Closing her eyes, Ardelia moaned. It would do no good to turn around. She wouldn't be able to see Hannibal's smile of satisfaction. He'd used the control center where Nurse Barney had once kept vigil over the inmates of the wing. 


	20. Escape

Chapter 20 The end??  
  
N/A: Highly unlikely the last chapter, but I'm at a loss for ideas now… so I'm stumped. That's why this chapter is going to suck until I revise it. I just hate leaving you guys hanging.  
  
Hannibal smiled as he made his way out of the control booth where he'd stood while calmly locking Ardelia into his old cell. It felt surprisingly good to lock someone else into the damnable cage. He'd despised every instant he'd had to spend there. Even the little fun he'd had didn't strike inspiration in him. Only Clarice's few visits had interested him at all. Putting someone else in there so they might catch a glimpse of what being caged felt like seemed relieving. He stood a little ways down the hallway, some yards away from his old cell so that the armed Ardelia would be unable to shoot at him.  
  
"Agent, I am asking you to disarm yourself and push your gun through the cage." He said quietly.  
  
"I don't think so, Dr. Lecter." She replied harshly from inside the cell. Hannibal frowned. She was being rude again. This was starting to grate on his nerves.  
  
"I'm very sorry, Agent Mapp, but I have to meet a friend of mine upstairs. I trust your partners up there are unarmed? By the cut of their clothes, it looked as though you were foolish enough to bring them here without offering them weapons."  
  
"They're in training." Ardelia confessed, hoping that might save them from the doctor to at least a small degree.  
  
"Ah, your protégé's?" He smiled. "It will be a pleasure to meet them, I assure you. Ta-Ta for now, Ardelia. I'll come back to deal with you another day."  
  
He turned and walked back through the control room and into the stair well that would lead him up to the door across from Dr. Chilton's old office. He was silent, and made certain that the lights in the stair well were off. That would give him the opportunity to see into Dr. Chilton's office without being observed as more than a shadow.  
  
When he reached the landing, he could hear muffled voices of concern. The agents were worried about Ardelia – and rightly so. Yet neither of them wanted to leave the office. The building, as one of the ladies was saying "gave them the creeps". Hannibal smirked. That could work to his advantage if he wanted it to. Yet he didn't think it was the right time to play games with insolent schoolgirls. He just wanted Clarice.  
  
Opening the door, he called out softly:  
  
"Who's there?" Then, he stepped back into the door, closing it almost all the way.  
  
Handcuffed to a seat, Clarice lifted her head sharply, looking intently out into the hall. The two agents stood quickly, moving to the door to look out into the hallway. Neither of the women saw him.  
  
"Hello?" The both called in turn. "Agent Michael? Agent Vince?"  
  
After a moment, they both stepped further outside of the office. This gave Hannibal an even better view of them. As they turned in slow circles, their guard picking up, he could see that they indeed had no guns. How slippery of Agent Mapp. When they were totally unnerved, he reached behind him, pulled out his favorite weapon, and stepped into the hall, making them turn to him with a start as the door creaked open. He had chosen not to be quiet or careful in approaching them. Startling them too much might make them do something stupid, like try and attack him.  
  
"Hello, ladies." He said pleasantly, holding his weapon up so they could see it. "I don't suppose either of you have the key for the cuffs on Clarice over there?"  
  
Both the women backed towards the office. With catlike speed, Hannibal reached out, took the arm of one, and pushed her out of the way. He elbowed the other one to the side because that hand held the harpy. The women shrieked in alarm, trying to think of ways to fight him. Obviously they hadn't expected trouble. They'd only expected to be watching over a woman who was perfectly harmless in her handcuffs. Maybe this would teach them a thing or two.  
  
"Ladies… I asked you for the key to the handcuffs."  
  
One of the agents, a woman in her early twenties with long chestnut colored hair, reached into her shirt pocket, and offered the key to him. When Hannibal reached out to take it, she dropped it through the fingers of her shaking hands. He wasn't foolish enough to bend down to take it. He had his back to the office door, and neither of them could sneak up on him. They were very smart not to attack a man with a very, very large knife.  
  
"Pick it up, my dear." He urged in his constantly calm voice. Her partner, with short, curly reddish-blonde hair and bright green eyes, crouched down and picked the key up swiftly, holding it out to him. Neither of them tried to run, although that wasn't overly surprising to Hannibal. Few people tried doing the logical thing when in shock. Hannibal reached out, put his fingers over the woman's, grasped the key, and then turned her hand upside-down so that it fell into his palm. Then, he kissed the back of her hand, making her shudder visibly. "Thank you. Now please step in here, into the office."  
  
The women followed him as he backed into the office. Then, when he nodded for them to move behind the desk, they did so. They stood by a window without blinds, but there was no one to look in and see them on that side of the building. Hannibal waited for them to situate themselves before unlocking Clarice's handcuffs.  
  
"Thank you for your cooperation, ladies." He picked up two sets of keys from the desk, and then followed Clarice – who'd remained silence this whole time – out of the office. He closed the door behind him, and locked it from the outside. Then, he dropped the keys, and kept the other set with him. Turning, he smiled down at Clarice. "We'll talk in the car my dear, if you'll be so good as to show me where you parked it."  
  
Clarice looked up at him with wide blue eyes, and reached up to take his shoulder. That was all it took for him to lean down and press a quick kiss to her mouth. Yet a quick kiss was all time would allow.  
  
"Come on…"  
  
She took his hand, and they walked briskly out of the building, to the van that had brought her to the asylum, and together they drove off. A while later, they would stop to rip off the license plates so it wouldn't be identified. Then, half an hour later, they would stop and get into Hannibal's favored blue Ford Taurus.  
  
They were heading out of state by way of the highway when they finally spoke to each other.  
  
"You knew…"  
  
Hannibal looked to Clarice with a slight smile.  
  
"I knew nothing, actually." He confessed. "I did see you on the news this morning though. Got a little bit of a shock. Got a bigger one when two men turned on the power to the asylum. I was hiding there, you see."  
  
"Oh…" Clarice just watched him. "Well… do you have anything to say?"  
  
"I'm pleased." He nearly blushed, wondering why he was so bad with words all of a sudden. "Clarice… there's a tender spot on your side. You've been favoring it all day. Will you tell me what happened to you?"  
  
"I was beaten by an agent." She replied curtly. "More than beaten… but when Ardelia found out, he was taken away from me. I was given the opportunity to press charges against him."  
  
Hannibal began to glower as he stared at the highway before them. More than beaten… did she mean she had been raped? He thought so. But he didn't want to press her. Obviously she didn't want to dwell on the thoughts. Reaching over, he took her hand, and simply held it between them in a fierce grip.  
  
"Clarice… if I didn't have to get you as far away from here as I possibly could…"  
  
"I know." She whispered. "Hannibal… just get the three of us out of here…" Her hand lightly touched her stomach. "I'm all right… we'll be all right. Won't we?"  
  
"Do you think I would have gotten you out of there if I didn't think so?" 


	21. Flight

Chapter 21: Flight  
  
Hannibal wanted to apologize to Clarice for so many things. He was sorry for leaving fingerprints on her apartment door back in Mansfield. He felt guilty for allowing her to be taken away from him. For letting them arrest her. Most of all, he wanted her to know that he hadn't meant to outwardly seem to brush off the fact that she'd been raped. Inwardly, he'd wanted to turn the car around, and run after the agent responsible. But that could very well have meant never escaping the state. That had to come first… for now.  
  
"The baby is yours." Clarice looked at him then, her hand still in his fierce, crushing grip. "What happened with Kevin… that was last week. I'm way too far along for the baby to be his."  
  
He nodded, promising himself that the man called Kevin would suffer for hurting his little Starling. Even if his revenge was to threaten him, to make him be kept under extreme surveillance for years. To take away the man's privacy as he was both protected and interrogated for what he'd done to Clarice. That would be at least something. His promise came even before his pleasure at knowing he was going to be a father.  
  
"Where are we going?" Clarice asked quietly. She wished that she could read his thoughts and emotions better. He was incredibly discouraging when he acted so stoical.  
  
"I thought Mason's old property would suit our needs." He told her. "It should be easy to get into some loft or other undetected. Do you mind walking a ways if we leave there without a vehicle?"  
  
"I take it you want to ditch the car."  
  
Hannibal took her reply as a yes. She didn't mind walking if it was necessary. He would only let her walk if it was necessary, in her condition. God knew they couldn't go to a doctor or clinic now. Not now that they would be wanted everywhere. He steered the car using his disabled hand. The other never once let go of Clarice.  
  
"My dear; why have a Taurus when we might have a Cadillac?" He smiled then. "You aren't the only person I've been keeping dibs on. The people who live there now have very, very nice cars."  
  
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^  
  
Muskrat Farm had been taken over once Mason Verger had been killed. But without his recipes to go by, the business was fast floundering. As a result, many of the buildings had become deserted as livestock was sold and moved. That gave Hannibal and Clarice just the chance they needed to hide themselves and the car within a large abandoned barn. No one was around the pastures at night; so Clarice showed Hannibal how she'd gotten in the night Mason died.  
  
"There seems to be plenty of clean straw in the loft." Hannibal stated as they climbed up a ladder to reach it. "Do you fear mice or rats, Clarice?"  
  
"Don't forget where I grew up." She replied dryly. Crawling into the loft, she settled herself into his arms as he sat back to rest against a pile of straw. "But I hate them. If I see one, it will be dead real quick."  
  
Chuckling, he pushed his fingers through her hair. He kissed her gently on the side of the mouth. Several minutes later, they were progressing rapidly onward from a lip-lock. Clarice felt so safe. Even in a dirty, cold old barn, she had keeping quiet as the last thing on her list of caution. Being in his arms again for the first time made her feel so incredibly secure. She kissed him hungrily, glad to see the face she'd never thought to see again in real life.  
  
After some time, Hannibal reluctantly broke from the kiss. Looking into her eyes, he placed a hand over her belly in a loving caress. His gaze was steady as he seemed to examine her for a long moment.  
  
"You haven't been sleeping." He said quietly. "Lay back. I'm going to get some things from the car."  
  
"No." Clarice took his hands quickly in a grip he hadn't expected. He looked to her with curious eyes, one leg positioned under him, the other out in front of him as he'd been about to stand up.  
  
"No?" Gently, he reached up to touch her hair.  
  
"Don't leave my sight for an instant." She whispered. "Remember what happened the last time I did that."  
  
"You're free to watch me from the top of the ladder." Smiling, he kissed her again, briefly pulling her once more into his arms. Well… perhaps the supplies in the car he'd packed from the asylum, before Ardelia and her crew arrived with Clarice, would have to wait.  
  
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^  
  
"Shhhh! Clarice! It's all right!"  
  
It was the first time she had ever awakened to a pair of arms encircling her in the dark. To a soft voice soothing away the nightmares that haunted her mind. A lamb of a different sort, one might say. If they would call it a lamb at all. She would only call it a terror.  
  
"It's all right, Clarice." Hannibal soothed in the darkness, his lips kissing her temple. "You're safe. I promise you. You're safe."  
  
There was a long few minutes of silence as Clarice calmed down. Being in Hannibal's arms… of course she was safe. She'd never thought twice about being in danger when near him. But she hadn't realized that when she'd first awakened. She'd been thinking about Kevin. About how he'd gotten by a guard easily during third shift without being checked on. She had be thinking about the way he attacked her. The way he'd threatened her with a loaded weapon while handcuffing her hands behind her back. While hissing obscenities at her about how she must be Hannibal's whore. It took that one night for her to stop feeling even remotely attractive… although she'd never considered herself so before. That had been plain modesty, although she sometimes told herself that she could be a fine catch for a man if she wanted to be. She'd been admired before. She'd never been blind to being hit on.  
  
"Tell me." Hannibal whispered, pulling her relentlessly out of her tormented thoughts.  
  
"No." She replied in a hoarse whisper. "Please. I don't want you to know. You know enough already."  
  
In the darkness, Hannibal was silently grinding his teeth together, able to feel her torment and pain. But with it, he felt an encompassing black fury. She was trying not to worry him, to make him upset. But just hearing her whimper in her sleep had been enough to make him murderously furious with the man who'd hurt her while she was held in custody. He wanted to leave her there and go hunt the man down. Maybe he would eventually. But he couldn't leave her like this. Not when she needed him.  
  
"Alright." He finally sighed, forcing his muscles to relax. "Clarice… I'm going to go down and get you some water from the car. Okay? I'll be right back. I promise you."  
  
"Will you be taking the lantern?" She looked to the electric lantern he'd brought with him from the asylum. He'd turned it on before waking her up from her nightmare, and she only noticed it now, as they sat up from the straw. As she stubbornly stayed wrapped in one of his arms as he sort of tried to get away.  
  
"I don't have to. Would you rather I left it here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I will." Kissing her again, he put his fingers through her hair, and went to climb down the ladder. Clarice couldn't even begin to imagine how hard that must be with only one hand. Yet he adapted to such circumstances very easily. She'd learned that already. He did what it took to survive. He wouldn't let anything beat him.  
  
Hannibal climbed into the back seat of the Taurus, and closed the door, the windows rolled up. Clarice watched him as he picked up his stolen cell phone from a compartment between the two front seats, punched in a number, and brought it to his ear. It was very difficult to see all this, but she was squinting very hard to make out whatever she could. Who would he be calling at a time like this? Surely not Ardelia.  
  
He climbed back up the ladder several minutes later, carrying three 20 oz. Bottles of spring water under his handless arm. He said nothing about the phone call, although he knew she'd been watching him. He'd found it necessary to call Ardelia, yes. But only to try and force her to give him the phone number to agent Kevin's home or cellular. Either would be fine to him. Yet the woman had been stubborn, and refused. So he'd made sure she had a message to give him.  
  
"I know what you did to her. I hope you don't mind if I come and talk to you about it sometime."   
  
Clarice took one of the bottles as he offered it to her, and lay back in the straw again, reclined slightly against a bail of hay behind her. She took a long draught from the water, until he took hold of the bottom of it, pulling it away from her lips. His eyes were stern, but not angry.  
  
"I will not have you making yourself ill." He scolded in a cool voice. "Give it up, Clarice. You're feeling better now, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes." She whispered, holding her hand out to him. He settled himself beside her, and lay his leather coat across her once again. She'd kicked it off in her sleep.  
  
"Tomorrow I'll be sure to pick up a couple of blankets at a K-Mart or Wal-Mart… or something." He promised her. "And perhaps a couple of pillows. We might end up sleeping in the back of a couple of cars for a while. We can't stay here indefinitely."  
  
"I know." She sighed, settling her head against his shoulder. "But we can't go anywhere with a surveillance camera. The FBI is probably commanding that all tapes be reviewed in case we'd be seen in them."  
  
"That doesn't matter." He assured her. "We'd be far from the place we bought what we needed by the time they spotted us in those pixely images. We'll zigzag across the country for a while. Go from one place to another without any particular pattern. They won't be able to find us that way."  
  
Clarice closed her eyes, listening as he calmly spoke of his plans for their travels. Soon, she was again asleep. Just as he'd wanted her to be. 


	22. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 22  
  
N/A – Thanks so much for your reviews! I can't believe you actually like my work. I always thought people I knew face-to-face were always gilding the truth a bit, but you haven't said things very different from them at all! I'm so honored and humbled!  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Chapter 22: The Still Before the Storm  
  
It was a cool night. Not quite cold, for nearly mid-winter. But the weather this year had been unpredictably warm. A dark maroon 1985 BMW was parked at the Snyder Bridge Scenic Area on US Route 2 in New Hampshire. The front driver side door stood open, the inside light creating a warm light down over Clarice, who lay in the back seat. A small red pillow was tucked under her Irish red hair. A white blanket covered her body, which had begun to show the delicate condition she was in.  
  
The soft volume of the radio played Hannibal's beloved Goldberg Veriations.  
  
Standing at the hood of the car, stood the good Doctor himself. Like Clarice, his hair was died, and he had grown a small mustache he found extremely distasteful and intolerable. But those were the sacrifices of disguise. When she woke, Clarice would put in contacts that made her eyes a dark olive green.  
  
Watching the sunrise, Hannibal leaned back onto the low hood of the car, wearing a blue cotton sweater, and brand new blue jeans. Only the expensive loafers on his feet showed his ultimate taste for style. To keep the breeze off his hair, he wore the white fedora he'd bought while living in Florence, and his favored pair of dark tinted sunglasses to hide the maroon of his eyes.  
  
Out of his pocket, he pulled a cell phone – another stolen one. He'd gone through twelve so far. He pushed a single button before bringing it to his ear. After seven rings, a groggy voice answered on the other end of the line.  
  
"This had better be Catherine Zeta-Jones."  
  
Hannibal smirked momentarily.  
  
"I'm sorry to disappoint you." He said in a quiet voice. "I just thought it was time for that talk I promised you."  
  
There was a long pause. In the back round, he could hear movement. The man was probably sitting up in bed, hitting his head on a shelf above the pillow… or stubbing his toe on the foot of the bed. It sounded as though he swore, and that made Hannibal lose his smirk.  
  
"Doctor?"  
  
"I haven't called for pleasantries." Just hearing the voice made Hannibal clench his free hand into a tight fist. The knuckles turned white. "You will call me 'Sir', Agent. Is that understood?" He didn't let people he didn't like call him doctor. Not people who he completely detested.  
  
"Yes… Sir." There was a click over the line that had begun a few seconds after the man recognized the doctors voice. It was obviously very hard for him to choke out the word one would normally use for their superiors.  
  
"Take off the tap." Hannibal ordered. "What I have to say is private. For you only. If you can remember it all when I hang up, then write it down."  
  
There was no reply. Hannibal put his free hand on the hood of the car behind him as he leaned back.  
  
"Are you still there, Agent? Are you quite awake now? I certainly hope so. I won't be repeating myself."  
  
"I'm awake, and listening."  
  
"Did Agent Mapp show you my case file?" He asked curiously. "Pictures of Mason Verger? What remained of the others I encountered? I hope she told you all of the stories. Because I'm going to do twenty times worse to you."  
  
"How do you expect to do that, Sir?" Kevin's tone was getting arrogant. Yet Hannibal was pleased to hear the smallest hint of apprehension behind it.  
  
"You'll find out." He told him quietly. Behind him, the radio volume abruptly went down. He could no longer hear the piano. "Talk to you again very soon, my good agent. Oh… don't bother changing your cell phone. Or your home number. Don't bother with traces or taps. They're utterly useless… especially since you'll never find me. I, on the other hand, will always find you."  
  
As the car door behind him opened, on the passenger side, Hannibal tucked the phone back into his pocket. Turning, he smiled at Clarice as she stood tiredly from the back seat, wearing thick sock slippers underneath fluffy Tweety slippers. Under a plain cotton robe, she wore a velour set of Pajama's from T J Max of a dark burgundy. The color nearly matched Hannibal's eyes.  
  
"Where are we?" She asked quietly. Her arms slid about his shoulders as he approached.  
  
"New Hampshire."  
  
They looked at one another for a long time. Hannibal was thinking to himself. Oh… Agent Kevin most definitely deserved what was going to happen to him. Perhaps it was more twisted than what Mason Verger had had planned for him. He wasn't sure yet. He'd decided he was going to do whatever came to mind when he found Kevin and stood face-to-face with him.  
  
Clarice reached up to kiss him briefly.  
  
"I'll drive once I change…"  
  
She wasn't even going to ask who he'd been talking to on the phone. Surely she had to have seen him talking before she turned off the radio. Perhaps that was because she assumed he was calling Ardelia. That was something he still did at least once a week. He enjoyed exasperating her. He kept her on her toes. He stood back while Clarice went briefly into the trunk, pulled out socks, sneakers, a pair of jeans, and a white fluffy sweater, then ducked into the back seat of the car to change. He turned back to the view in front of the car. In front of the row of parking spaces stood a guard rail, and below that the ground dropped off into a steep hill, looking down into a low valley. The sight was breath taking.  
  
"How is the baby treating you today?" He called over his shoulder.  
  
"I suppose that our child must be just fine." She called back. A few seconds later, he heard the door shut behind him, and then her sneakers on the gravel. "I don't feel any morning sickness anymore. But we're both hungry." She slid both arms about his waist from behind.  
  
"So am I." Turning, Hannibal kissed her forehead, and then moved to the front passenger side door of the car. Clarice followed suit, moving to the already opened driver side door. They climbed in together, buckled up, and then briefly clasped hands.  
  
"There's a Denny's down the highway, up three more exits. Does that suit you?"  
  
"Or a Waffle House." She said with a little smile, before putting her arm over the back of his seat, and turning to back out of the parking spot. Then, much faster than he'd have preferred to go in such a high-class car, she sped out onto the highway.  
  
"Do you mind, Clarice?" He asked irritably, one hand involuntarily gripping what many called a suicide bar, on the door beside him. "I would like to make it to breakfast without a scratch. And I'd prefer it if the baby made it there alive."  
  
Clarice laughed, reaching out to flick an automatic switch between the seats. The sun roof above them slid partially open, and she snapped his cassette of Bach out of the player, and turned a bit of David Bowie up at nearly full volume. Shaking his head, Hannibal turned to look out the window at the blurring scenery they passed. He decided not to think about Kevin again for the rest of that day, until Clarice was again asleep. He didn't want her to know what he had planned. Because he knew there was at least a slight chance the master-mind he had might not get out of the situation alive. Yet in the end he was certain it almost didn't matter. Just as long as Kevin, the man who'd raped his beloved Little Starling, would pay for it in the end. 


	23. To the Harvest

Chapter 23: To the Harvest…  
  
Hannibal was dreaming… and in the dream he could only see one thing. A blurry image – when usually the images he saw in his mind were so vivid they could easily terrify someone – even him. A mass of white. A blanket of white in front of him. Such a white that made him understand he should feel cold… and shivered under the blankets where he huddled with Clarice in the back seat of the BMW. In the mass of white that completely overcame his inner eyesight, were streaks of a dark, frightening, ugly red. In the back round, he heard repeated thuds… as though something were being struck against a hard object with extreme force. It wasn't unlike the sound of a butcher knife slamming down onto a wooden cutting board.  
  
Clarice, beginning to awaken beside Hannibal, furrowed her brow in discomfort. She then opened her eyes and turned to look at his restless face. His eyes were shut tightly, and there was a look of utter pain and despair in his face. Immediately, she reached up to take his shoulder, feeling him pull her very, very tightly against the length of his body.  
  
"Mi… Mi…" He murmured, distressed, before her grip on his shoulder made his eyes snap open.  
  
"Shhhh…" She whispered softly, meeting his gaze immediately. "Hannibal… it's all right. What's wrong? Was it some sort of nightmare? Are you hurting somewhere?"  
  
His ragged breathing was almost completely imperceptible to her. As Hannibal stared at her, his hand came up to gently caress over her swollen, pregnant belly. He calmed himself inwardly, cursing the damnable dream that chose to visit him now, when he was happier than he would have thought possible under such conditions.  
  
"I'm here." Clarice insisted softly, trying to make certain he was all right in his total silence. "We're here with you, Hannibal. Will you tell me about the dream?"  
  
He shook his head, and closed his eyes as though to try and get back to sleep. But he knew he wouldn't. It was only a façade, to try and assure Clarice that he'd be all right. He would never tell her about the childhood visions that came back to terrorize him with every chance they got. It was better she not have to see even more ugliness in the world than she'd already seen. Guiltily, he remembered that a lot of that ugliness had been seen by her because of him, and he was about to give her even more to see.  
  
Kevin had been evacuated from the D.C. area when the threatening phone calls from Dr. Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lector continued for three months on end. Yet already Hannibal knew where they'd placed him. He was very sharp, and his hearing sometimes better than he wanted it to be. Yet overhearing that Agent Kevin (ex-agent Kevin now, since he'd been charged with the rape of Clarice Starling while she was in custody of D.C. police… and discharged from the FBI) had been moved to California, the Beverly Hills area, had come as a blessing. He had visited there once. It would be only too easy to find Kevin's home, make it inside, strike, and make good his escape before the police undoubtedly keeping a close eye on the man knew he was in California.  
  
"I love you, Hannibal." He heard Clarice whisper. Slowly, his maroon eyes re-opened, and his hand went up to her hair.  
  
"How's the baby?" He asked softly.  
  
"Fine…" She promised. "Almost ready to meet us, I think. Now I don't really know what contractions feel like… but I feel as though it might be days now."  
  
"Good." He said softly. "I mean… especially that we're in such a remote area. We could even find a Bed and Breakfast in a county where few people hear of national news… and I'll help you have our child. It couldn't have happened any better."  
  
"I know. That's why you came here, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes." Hannibal admitted. "But if a criminal is going to be caught anywhere in the country, I'll admit that Texas is the last place you'd want to be captured. But that will not happen to us."  
  
"I know." She repeated. "I know."  
  
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-  
  
The little house was dark, as very few houses were at that time, in one of the most party-going cities known to mane in the Western states. Even Hannibal was surprised that a man being taken care of by a program much like Witness Protection wouldn't be out on the streets enjoying his good fortune. Women and liquor would be paid for by the government. How could a man not take advantage of that? Then again… who's to say the government wouldn't tell him to go to Hell for acting like that when they've been so lenient to him over such a serious charge as raping a woman he was supposed to be trying to both protect and prosecute fairly?  
  
Inside the house, one could see from a side window that there was a very small screen TV on somewhere. A black and white TV at that. How very boring, Hannibal thought to himself as he very quietly and efficiently cut through the old screen in the back right window of the house. There were no alarms in the place, which he found almost startling. Then again, the man would be stupid enough to live somewhere without even a decent burglar alarm.  
  
This was for Clarice. Although he wouldn't be able to take as much time as he'd like to … to savor the only kill he'd probably ever have again his entire life… to be creative and tormenting to the man… That was a little bit depressing to the twisted part of his mind. Still, he was going to get to kill the man whom had raped the mother of his three week old son.  
  
Antonio Marcus Lector. Not even Lecter-Starling, or Starling-Lector. Just Lector. He'd been born with dark, dark blue eyes. Hannibal had wondered if perhaps he'd have maroon eyes like himself. Clarice herself seemed almost certain of it. Although the baby had her darker hair. Not lighter of color like Hannibal's had been, even as a child.  
  
"Ready or not…" He murmured to himself as he used a crowbar to break the lock to the now screen less window in Beverly Hills. It was relatively easy to climb in through the window, although it took a great deal of his physical strength. Part of him decided to use an image that usually terrified him in order to commit this particular crime. The sight of blood stained snow, as it looked through the crack in a barn wall. His mind decided to tell himself that not only was he doing this for Clarice, but for his sister whom had died. He was now taking revenge on not only Kevin, but the bastards who'd killed his sister.  
  
It had been very quick, but Hannibal made certain he could feel the fear running through his victim the entire time. Then, even as he was wearing gloves, used a very small art paint brush to write a large message on the living room wall.  
  
I TOLD HIM HE WAS DOG MEAT.  
  
And he was… Hannibal carried an axe with his paint brush, crowbar, and very small but sharp twig cutters out of the house as he made his escape, through the window which he'd used to get inside. The place was clean, except for the mutilated and bloody body inside. There were none of Hannibal's finger prints. There was not even the vaguest scent of the musky cologne Clarice had recently bought him.  
  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
NA – yes another short chapter. I'm sorry about that. Reading Hannibal for the first time, and came across his nightmare on the Plane on the way to America. It inspired me – but apparently not enough. 


	24. A/N

I must say … I just finished the actual book of "Hannibal"…  
  
It was extremely confusing. And I think that because of a great many of the fan fiction I've read here, most people have only seen the movie, and not read the book. I have no intention of stopping my story and starting over. But please forgive me, I do still have a writers block that refuses to be knocked down.  
  
I recommend that those who have not read the book … try and read it. It's a work of art… though I'm still blown away by the end. I put it down not two minutes ago. 


	25. Infantile Desicions

N/A - Well I still have a writers block, but let's see how this goes (  
  
  
  
Chapter 24  
  
The small shabby hotel right by the border to Mexico had almost every room vacant. Very few people ever went there anymore, as the owner was a cantankerous old fool who fired most of his help – and therefore couldn't find help that wanted to be hired by him. And since he didn't like doing menial labor himself, he would sit behind his desk, checking guests in and out of their rooms for outlandish prices, letting the place go to waste. His sister came by once a week to pick up the rooms a little, set traps and spray the place with insecticide. That made each room a place where one might take cat naps for a couple of hours, or sit and watch the basic cable black and white television sets. Yet it was hardly the place one would stay for the night … unless they were illegal aliens who had tried to smuggle themselves over the border and needed a place to hide out.  
  
In room 32 sat a woman practically in middle-age, her straight red hair falling to the small of her back. One strand fell over dark green eyes … and into the hand of a small infant who looked up at her with a scrunched up face. She smiled at him gently, tears stinging her eyes. A man stood behind her at the dressing sink, having himself a shave. He wore khaki pants, and a simple white t-shirt.  
  
"You know it won't be easy running about the world with a baby in tow." He was saying, his metallic voice low, hoarse from what seemed to be an intense emotional pain. "Do you think I actually want to do something like this?"  
  
"Don't expect me to give up my baby." The woman replied in a broken voice. "He's ours. No one else can have him. I won't take the chance of them putting into some orphanage or institution!"  
  
Hannibal looked up at Clarice through the reflections in the mirror before him.  
  
"Do you really think Ardelia would let your baby be taken away from her when you've asked her to care for him?" He asked in a gently scolding voice. "She wouldn't do that, Clarice. She didn't have any choice but to turn you into the F.B.I when you were taken from me. You would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed, and for the same reasons. I think you can trust her with him."  
  
"I will not give up our son, Hannibal." She hissed quietly, standing to place the baby on the bed gently. He was beginning to fall asleep again. "Don't ask me to do it."  
  
Turning, he wiped his hands on a ragged but clean white towel that was folded on the sink, and walked towards her. His eyes were soft, and full of both love and sympathy.  
  
"Clarice… I am only trying to think of him. Don't you know that? About what living with us as fugitives would mean for him."  
  
"It would be better than not knowing the truth about the parents that made him out of love. That gave him life through their love for him and each other."  
  
He sighed, hugging her to him.  
  
"Very well my dear… very well…" 


	26. Scent of a Killer

Chapter 25: Scent of a Killer  
  
N/A – the chapter title will probably have nothing to do with what occurs in this chapter. I am using this title to acknowledge another Hannibal fiction writer on this web site. They are the last words in his/her story (I'm very very sorry but I didn't think to look at who wrote it Smacks self). They were the last words in the story… took place within SOTL with a power outage in the asylum. If it's you, I hope you know I really liked the story. I just wasn't signed in at the time.  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 25: Scent of a Killer  
  
Time has passed, and with Kevin dead, Clarice has forgotten her nightmares. Sometimes, however, Hannibal still wakes up in the middle of the night from dreams of his own. Dreams that will undoubtedly never stop altogether, but have lessened with each week he spends in the arms of his Clarice. They did manage to escape with their son. And Hannibal has also had the good luck to be able to return to the United States to claim his hidden fortunes from all of his old stocks and old aliases. After so many months of living in squalor, he had desperately wanted his old sense of taste back in his life.  
  
The large house in France was only one of several he now owned under different names. He had grown his hair long enough to tie back like one would have seen gentlemen do in movies of the old American South. The facial hair he'd grown while they were in hiding was carefully shaved off, and he now wore fashion contacts that turned his eyes a dark cobalt blue. They nearly matched the color of Clarice's eyes, who had stopped wearing her designer contacts, and dyed her hair once again, from the Irish orange- red, to a far lighter dirty blonde. Their son grew without health difficulties, and a fake birth certificate was created for him. Although they would always address him as Toni, the nickname for the name they'd given him at birth, the certificate said Demetri Francesco Ledoux.  
  
Although they had no financial distress to worry about for a very, very long time, Clarice had decided she would like to have some employment to keep herself busy. Lector had decided to do the same, and began to teach her French at an alarmingly fast pace. Sometimes, it was hard for her to keep up with him. But within two years, she spoke fluently, as though she'd been born and raised in the heart of Paris. Their son would grow up speaking English, French, and Spanish. As a consequence, Clarice soon began going back to school in France to become a language teacher for Middle School students, and Hannibal became, once more, the leader of a very large library. No one ever questioned who they were. No one had need to.  
  
Hannibal had decided upon a new way to keep his fingerprints from making it to any lab in a justice department. He wore little round bandages on the tips of his fingers and thumbs, instead of gloves. Still, though, he would carefully wipe down anything he had come into contact with. Book covers, tables, glasses, silverware. He did these things even when no one seemed to ever give him a second glance. One could never be too careful, and Clarice had been instructed to be careful about her fingerprints as well. But he wasn't worried about her. She wasn't wanted in the United States for being a serial murderer.  
  
"Madame Ledoux?"  
  
Clarice looked up from where she sat in the back seat of her cranberry colored 2001 550 Ferrari, beside the car seat of her son. The roof was down, as it was a very pleasant summer day, and she wore a spring dress of pale green. She smiled easily at Msr. Devonts, one of the staff members of the library the man everyone new as her husband worked at. He was pleasant enough, although sometimes Clarice would know with her back turned that he was eyeing her appreciatively. Still, he was discreet about it, and obviously meant no disrespect, so she let it happen.  
  
"Good afternoon, Monsieur." She greeted casually, leaning back in her seat, holding onto the hand of the three year old child with wavy brown to dirty blonde hair. His hair was so light that no one could ever tell exactly what color it was supposed to be. Especially when it was bleached by the summer sun. "How can I help you today?"  
  
"Oh, I don't need anything, Madame." The man answered with an easy going smile. "I just wanted to tell you that your husband isn't here at the moment. I know you expected him to come out… but one of the Professors from the university uptown asked him to a drink. She is very interested in a lecture he helped her to prepare for her students, and wanted to find out what else he knew."  
  
Clarice smiled, and nodded, feeling just the vaguest twinge of jealousy that he'd go out for a drink with a female professor. She trusted Hannibal, and why shouldn't she? Anyone else could one day find out who he is, and turn him into the police. If they could move quicker than him, at least.  
  
"Your son is getting so big." Monsieur Devonts admired the boy as he clung to his mothers hand with his little chubby fingers, and flipped through a cardboard picture book at the same time. "He looked a great deal like his father. Except for those unusual eyes!"  
  
"Yes." She agreed simply, knowing that the boy had dark maroon eyes like Hannibal. "It comes from his fathers side of the family. His grandfather, or great-grandfather I believe. It does skip generations." Climbing out of the back seat of the car, she took Monsieur Devonts offered hand of assistance, and straightened out her dress once her sandals touched the hot pavement. "Do you know where they went for that drink?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Madame. I don't." He replied with sincere regret. "But you're welcome to stay until he comes back." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a fistful of change for the parking meter in front of the car. "Here… don't waste your emergency change on that piece of junk."  
  
"Merci, Monsieur." Clarice replied with an honest smile. Yet a few minutes after he walked away, Hannibal came walking around the corner, dressed in cream colored slacks, a button-up tailored shirt of such a pale blue it seemed nearly white… and an overcoat of the same cream color as his slacks. He wore one of his favorite pairs of expensive shoes, and sunglasses with a light violet tint. On his head of long hair he wore his favored fedora from Italy.  
  
"Ah, there you are." He teased lightly as he came up to put an arm about her, and pull her into a warm hug. "Your tutoring didn't last very long today. You usually get here late."  
  
"Yes, well, Nicolette had to cancel, because one of her distant relatives died." Clarice explained, just before drawing him into a lingering kiss. From behind her, as she was pressed back against the side of the car, she heard Toni laugh in his high pitched octave. Hannibal pulled away from her with a smile.  
  
"I believe we have an audience." He stated, moving around the car to the passenger side where the toddlers car seat was. He reached down to run his hand over the top of his tiny head with a grin. "Hello, my good lad."  
  
"Papa!" Toni exclaimed happily, reaching out with his pudgy arms. Hannibal gave into him, leaning down for a hug which was restrained by not only the car seat in which Toni was locked, but the side of the car which Hannibal had to lean over.  
  
"I'm here." He assured his son, as Clarice climbed into the drivers seat to start the car. Hannibal took a moment to adjust the makeshift hood he'd created to keep sun and wind off of Toni when the convertible had it's roof down and they were on the move. Then, climbing into his passenger seat, he popped a CD into the stereo, gave Clarice another kiss, and then just watched her admiringly as she drove out of the area towards home.  
  
"He's going to be as strong as you." She told him once it seemed Toni was nodding off behind them. "Today… he nearly broke the Playschool electronic game you gave him for his birthday when he threw it against the wall in a fit."  
  
Hannibal laughed, leaning his head back against the head rest, and closed his eyes. His fedora now rested on his lap under one heavy hand, so that it would not be taken away by the wind. He dozed contentedly, just like his son, until they reached the large state house they owned nearby the Paris Opera House… on the same street where Andrew Lloyd Webber had once lived. They could see his old home from their bedroom window if they stood to the extreme right of it. Bringing Toni up to his crib for a nap, Hannibal then drew Clarice once again into his arms, and pulled her down the hall.  
  
"Something on your mind, Monsieur Ledoux?" She asked teasingly, as he pressed her against the door frame. Hannibal looked at her wickedly. A look that used to frighten her as much as it now excited her.  
  
"Maybe…" He admitted. "I hope you didn't want an early supper tonight. We won't be leaving this room for a while."  
  
They laughed as he lifted her up into another deep, searing kiss. This had been a part of their lives for a long time. Once their son was born, they could never seem to keep away from one another. The few weeks they'd been separated because of Clarice's arrest had been too much for them, and they clung to one another's company, and the pleasure of each others bodies, as though they might never again have that opportunity. 


End file.
